


The Legend of Zelda: A Novel

by Lleu (Gyffes)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda (Video Game 1986)
Genre: Gen, Major Original Character(s), Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyffes/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: Link is a young adventurer, struggling to survive in a dying world. A mysterious old woman offers a quest. Can Link soften his dark heart and restore light to Hyrule? A novelization of a classic game.Beta reader: ArcAngleofJustice





	1. Chapter 1

**The Legend of Zelda**

**Chapter 1**

_Before my bed, moonlight,_  
Maybe frost on the ground.  
I lift up my and see the moon,  
I lower my head and miss my home.

 _Quiet Night Thought_  by Li Bai, Chinese poet, 712-770  
My own translation _  
_

* * *

Link rose with the sun. He always did, now. Little comfort in remaining on a bed of stone. His shelter was a small depression he'd found in the side of a short cliff. Rough and cramped, but it suited well enough; he had few possessions for it anyway.

He stepped out into the chilly dawn, stretching life back into his tight shoulders. The stiffness in his back was too deep to dispel completely. Enough to get him moving was all he needed.

He would have to move again. Been hiding in the cliff nearly ten days by now. Far too long. If you dig in roots, the Ganon Band finds you. Hopefully they wouldn't come so far away from civilization in the first place, but only a fool takes chances.

Fools don't live long in Hyrule.

He packed quickly. His sling, his canteen, spare boots, and a pack of emergency rations made a light load. Without a look back, he set off, walking down the middle of the river so as not to leave footprints.

If the river took him past a settlement, it might be a good chance to mend the small holes wearing in his tunic. Might even get a hot dinner out of the deal. He could vaguely remember some scrap of excitement at the smell of a spiced apple pie, or a casserole of fresh eggs and spinach. Little food worth enjoying nowadays. You eat what keeps you healthy and moving. Salted, stringy meat or whithering sprouts.

Then again, if his journey took him elsewhere, he could make do.

Emaciated squirrels and rabbits darted away as he followed the trail north. Too small to make any kind of meal, but they were too dumb to know that. Not even smart enough to see how damned miserable they all were. The river itself was void of life and nearly dry. Maybe a minnow here or there, but certainly nothing worth catching.

Near noon, the river brought him along a trail, worn deep by wheel tracks. Pointless to hide his tracks in a river this close to a main path. In the river, he'd just be suspicious, and the trail would mask any tracks against dozens of others.

He took a moment to sit on the river and air his wet feet. He donned new boots and socks once he was dry. Hiking with wet feet was a quick path to blisters.

On the trail, the journey passed peacefully. It brought him north, winding through a deposit of barren foothills. A couple times he heard the low rumble of an approaching cart and scampered off for concealment behind a boulder. Such instances were hardly remarkable. One survived as best one could, and Link had learned long ago there was safety in solitude.

Then he heard not that creaking of a carriage, but a shriek. Link bounded up the berm toward the sound. It was as likely a trap as anything, but his instinct drove him to check.

She crouched amidst a circle of moblins: an aged woman, her long white locks dropping all the way to the earth as she vainly shied away from the attackers.

Link had already loaded his sling. As the lead moblin raised his wicked club, Link's stone flew through the air with blinding speed. The moblin stumbled, landing hard on a knee, then collapsed. There was but the faintest trickle of blood from his head.

The pig men shouted out and gazed about them, stamping around in confusion. Link descended the hill with a roar, flinging two more projectiles as he charged.

His missiles felled the two closest to him, and he grabbed the first's club with both hands as he passed and brought it around in a wild swing at the next moblin in line.

It was a glancing blow, bouncing off its leather pauldron, but it was enough to knock the beast back howling. Link continued forward and aimed the backswing at the moblin's face. It collapsed with a  _crunch_.

The other moblins were already in flight.

Link turned about himself, making sure there was no further danger.

"You show reckless courage young man," the woman said. She hobbled to her feet. Her back was bent over nearly double, and she supported herself with a weathered walking stick. Her clothes, though, were a fierce red color, with delicate embroidery running down the back.

 **"** Never mind that," Link snapped. "We need shelter and concealment, fast. No way that's all there are. Can you run?"

"I haven't run in years."

Link swore. He stooped down, then hefted her over his shoulders. Thank the goddesses she was so light.

"I have a camp down the road, maybe a kilometer. It's fortified. There's safety there, more than here anyway."

Link swore again. A bloody  _kilometer_? It was tempting to blame the woman for getting caught, but either way he'd wandered into Moblin-infested territory. He sprinted off down the road, trying not to jostle her too hard.

They did not make it far before they saw a patrol of Moblins march into view. Link dove off the road, landing flat on his stomach to protect the woman he carried.

"Did they see us?" she asked.

"If they saw us, we'd know. Moblins don't do subtlety. Can you guide me cross country?"

She affirmed, and off they went, picking through brambles, trying not to make too much noise.

Stealthy movement was agonizingly slow, but this was not Link's first flight. He kept control of his footsteps, avoiding twigs and dried leaves as he worked their way to shelter. The woman made things difficult. He had to stoop lower beneath branches to be careful about hitting her. The going was slow enough that he could likely set her down, but he did not want to rely on her stealth skills. In any case, she did not complain about being carried.

"That's it, just across that clearing," she whispered. Of course. The clearing where another horde of Moblins milled about. "See that depression by the boulder? It opens into a cave. Good camouflage. If we can get in there, they'll never find us."

Link grunted. Fine. But how to get there unnoticed? Charging them again wouldn't work; they knew he was there. Couldn't take them by surprise.

"Set me down and give me the sling," the woman said.

"What?"

"Now." Her voice came out in a low command that Link did not dare refuse.

She crept to the edge of the clearing, dangled the sling in her hand, and released two rocks in quick succession. They soared out, past the moblins to the other end of the clearing. Link nearly sighed, but then, impossibly, they hit the trees and  _bounced_  back, each striking and slaying a monster.

"What?"

His voice was lost in the roar of the moblins as they charged toward the forest, away from them, towards where they thought the rocks had come from.

"Come on," she said.

Thoroughly confused, Link followed her across the clearing, into her cave.

* * *

The woman was named Impa, and far tougher and more vibrant than Link had realized. Her cave hosted a gleaming array of weapons. Metal, not wood, all of them polished to a shine. An axe, a sword, even a morningstar.

"I thought all the Knights of Hyrule were dead," Link said, continuing their conversation, shared over bread and butter.

"The acting ones yes. Anyone young enough to fight. A few veterans left, though. Old folk like us, waiting for the right time."

Link looked up to stare her in the eye. "The answer is no."

"I haven't asked anything."

"You will. I'm not stupid. I see you're too bright to get caught by dumb Moblins. You could survive out here just fine if you wanted to, better than me most likely. So why did you let yourself get caught? Because you wanted to be rescued. Because you wanted a hero, a protege. Well, I'm not a hero. Like I said, I'm not stupid. The answer is no."

Impa sighed and settled back against the wall. "Well, an unwilling hero does me no good. I can't force you. How about a trade? A small favor for a small favor."

Link waved her on. "Until the Moblins move on, guess I have no choice but to listen."

Impa pushed herself up and ambled over to the wall where the weapons hung. She picked up a small wooden sword with bound and worn handle. She sank down into a defensive stance, holding the sword point straight in front of her toward the cave mouth. She furrowed her brow, began to sweat, and then a burst of energy shot from her hands, and out through the sword, exploding on a boulder outside the cave.

"A neat trick, eh?" she said, catching her breath. "Useful for a young adventurer all on his own, I reckon."

Link did not bother trying to hide his surprise. He had heard stories of the Knights of Hyrule; he had never guessed they might be true.

"You can teach this?" he whispered.

"If you put in the work."

"And what do you want in return?"

"The Ganon band has an outpost a couple day's walk from here. If you could clear it out, an old woman would feel safer in her home."

Link scoffed. "With your power, I don't think you need my help to kill a few monsters."

"Either way, I want them gone." Impa shrugged. "If you don't want any secrets of the Knights of Hyrule, I'm sure I can find some young adventurer who does."

This gave him pause. He could do without her special power. But if he were wandering alone, and she gave it to someone else, someone with less scruples, it could go ill for him down the line.

"If the monsters are fortified and they know what they're doing, I'll need a team to take them out," he countered. "I can't afford a team. Can you reward them? Will you train all of us?"

"With my power, you can take them on all by yourself, I can guarantee that."

"Suppose I learn your power, then run off and don't take the outpost? What then?"

"No chance of that, boy," Impa said with a snort. "You charged a horde of moblins just to save a helpless old woman. This world hasn't eroded your conscience, not yet."

* * *

He spent the night in the cave, sprawled on the most comfortable bit of rock he could find. He was used to lying on cold stone, shivering through the night and waking up full of aches. Now there was the steady rhythm of Impa's breathing to deal with on top. Breathing was dangerous. Breathing meant there was someone else there, that he wasn't safe. He had little choice but to trust her; it was her or the moblins.

"You ready, boy?" she asked when he stretched himself awake.

It really wasn't a decision at all. "Let's go." There was nothing else he had to do anyway.

Together they set up an array of pots just outside the mouth of the cave.

"If you see Moblins, you get back inside," Impa warned. "I do not need to deal with a mass of corpses on my doorstep.

It was a chilly fall morning with a sharp breeze already beginning to pick up. The sort of morning where he would be happy to forego a meal or two for the comfort of shelter. He stood facing the pots and tried not to shiver.

Impa seemed not to care. She wore a threadbare faded-red shirt, stained with sweat and mud. A small wooden sword hung loose in her right hand.

She began without preamble:

"The sword beam is an expression of pure focus, channeled through the sword. Some focus through rage, some through pain, some through love."

She extended the sword out toward a pot. "Come, hold it with me."

He stood beside her, twining his fingers around hers on the wooden hilt. Her hands were nearly entirely calloused and rough, and tension seemed to radiate from her fingers.

"Observe," she said.

Her body sunk back into a low fighting stance. Tiny tremors from her arms coursed through him. Then he felt it, a power blossoming inside her so strong it flared up in him as well. It expanded, overflowing even him, until at last it released out the sword, reducing the pot to dust.

He fell back, gasping.

"Your turn," Impa said.

Link steaded himself. He was still shaking, lightheaded from the rush.

"Pull together," Impa barked. "Don't let it control you."

Link shook his head to clear it, then took the sword himself and leveled it at the next pot.

"What do I do?"

She smacked him sharply on the back of the head. "Did you not pay attention? Was my demonstration a waste?"

Link sighed and tried to clear his find. For someone asking for a favor, the woman was awfully rude.

He thought he could remember where that power had originated, a spot deep in his stomach, but for all his effort he could not touch as she had.

"You're distracted. Focus on the pot. Nothing else!"

But it was no use. Nothing came.

Impa sighed and went into the cave. When she emerged, she carried a leather mask with an odd beak-shaped protrusion in the front. Link put it on, and then all his vision was completely blocked, save for a small circle of light.

"Try again," Impa said.

She helped him turn back towards the pot and angle his head so it was the only thing in view.

"Only the pot. Breathe."

Link obeyed. There was nothing at first, and then a small heart soared in exhileration, but as it did the tingle went away.

"I felt something!"

"I still see a pot there, so obviously there wasn't enough."

Link tried again. He forced his mind still as the feeling came back and grew within him. It built until his arms could barely stop from shaking, and his sword quavered. And then...

He released. The pot was obliterated.

"Good," Impa said. "Now I believe you have an outpost to storm."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Per me si va ne la città dolente,_  
_per me si va ne l'etterno dolore,_  
_per me si va tra la perduta gente._  
_Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore:_  
_fecemi la divina potestate,_  
_la somma sapienza e 'l primo amore._  
_Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create_  
_se non etterne, e io etterno duro.  
_ _Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate_

 _Through me the way to the suffering city;_  
_Through me the everlasting pain;_  
_Through me the way that runs among the Lost._  
_Justice urged on my exalted Creator:_  
_Divine Power made me,_  
_The Supreme Wisdom and the Primal Love._  
_Nothing was made before me but eternal things_  
_And I endure eternally.  
_ **Abandon all hope - You Who Enter Here.**

Dante Alighieri,  _Divine Comedy_ , Canto III lines 1-9

Link arrived at the outpost at morning the next day. It was situated on a peninsula jutting out into a deep river. He immediately didn't like it; only one way in meant only one way for him to retreat. The enemy controlled his path without even knowing he was there.

The structure rose high above the ground in the shape of a gnarled tree. It was too large to be natural, yet what process could have created such a twisted, jagged structure? Again, he swore, and began to suspect Impa had not given him her real reasons for wanting him here.

Even so, he had his honour, and a deal was a deal. He nestled himself in the shrubbery on the opposite bank and settled in to observe whatever activity there was to observe; he was not about to charge in clueless.

Despite his constant vigil, he saw no motion at all from the shadowed entryway of the building. The sun set, casting the peninsula in shadow, and Link backed away further to recuperate.

His stomach was near empty, and his joints stiff from lying on hard soil all day. He snacked on dried jerky and stretched the tension in his muscles away, then resigned himself to a night of restless sleep. He would fulfill his bargain in the morning.

The tree-structure felt even more menacing at dawn. There was no chirping of crickets here. The grass was dead near the entrance, and the building blotted out the sun from in front of it.

Link drew his sword and strode inside.

The air was rank and musty, carrying the rot of death. It took all his self-control not to plug his nose; he would need his hands. He stood there in the entrance, breathing deep until he grew accustomed to the foul air. Still, there was no sign of life. He walked deeper, guided by the dim ambient light.

A flutter of wings passed his head. He stifled a yell and backed away, flailing his sword. Bats. Clearly this wasn't a permanent home for the current occupants, or the infestation would be gone. Whoever used to live here had likely fallen along with everything else in Hyrule.

Link steadied himself with a handful of deep breaths and let his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light. Deep cracks snaked through the floor. Jagged holes dotted the walls. Distantly, he heard the slow, steady drip of water, explaining the cold damp feel of the air.

He pressed on through room after dead room. Enough light filtered in through the decrepit walls that he could see, but only just. As he began to wonder whether anyone was in there at all, he heard a faint clanking sound, like the tap of a sword against metal.

Moblins rarely had more than wooden spears or clubs. Maybe a crude bow at the most advanced. Metal tools. Yes, this place was far more than Impa had let on. Too late to back out of the deal, he followed the sound deeper.

When he could tell that the source of the sound lay just on the other side of a narrow passageway, he stopped to hide in the shadows. He readied his sword, muttered a prayer, and leapt through the doorway into the room beyond.

Link froze. Half a dozen skeletons  _stood_  in the room, armed with small swords, adorned in a patchwork of armor fragments. This should not be possible, but there they were, weapons gleaming by torchlight. As one, they turned to look at him, then squared up the rest of their bodies, weapons drawn.

In that moment, it was as if all the rest of the room faded away, and Link stood in a void with naught but his sword and the enemy. With a flicker of thought, a sword beam blazed across the gap between them, cutting through two skeletons before exploding against the far wall.

The survivors took large, deliberate steps toward him. They had neither the fear nor the fury of the beastly Moblins. He fired off a blind shot before springing backwards to make more room. The skeletons continued their inexorable advance.

His mystical focus had all but vanished, and he found himself back in cold reality. He tried for another sword beam, but nothing came. By hand, then.

He carefully circled the three skeletons. It would be foolish to charge them; that was a mind trick, and these abominations had no mind. Neither could he block; it would ruin his wooden sword.

Link advanced, slicing at the legs of the closest. It connected, but the skeleton's counter came far more quickly than its lumbering gait suggested. Link hopped back, barely avoiding being sliced in two. The only advantage he would have in this fight was that his sword gave him greater than the skeleton's smaller weapons. That and his wits.

He continued to retreat, leading them backward around in circles. Once he had enough distance, his right hand dipped to his belt, pulling up his sling and a handful of pebbles he'd collected for ammo. He deftly loaded it single-handed. He was less accurate at slinging with one hand, but dared not lose control of his sword.

He began flinging stones. Most flew wide, and the skeletons easily dodged those that came too close. Only one struck home, snapping off an arm. One less weapon to deal with, but this tactic would never work. Too inaccurate, too weak.

As if responding to an invisible signal, they all broke into a run toward him at once. Resorting to instinct, he met them head on and tackled the first skeleton to the ground, staying too close for it to use its swords. Its structure collapsed as it impacted the ground, and Link found himself in a heap of scattered bone.

He rolled over and onto his feet before the others could hit him. He backpedaled, fending them off with wild swings until he could recover his balance. An un-aimed strike tore through the hip of one. He turned, and beheaded the final foe with a broad swing.

"Good battle, young knight."

Link spun, raising his sword against a bearded old man in a red robe.

"I am no knight," Link said. "Who are you?"

"I am the caretaker of this temple," the man said, spreading his arms wide.

"Good work," Link said before he could stop himself. He did not apologize for his rudeness. The man was clearly no caretaker.

"Do you know what lies at the heart of this temple, young knight?"

"The Knights of Hyrule are long dead, or decrepit," Link corrected. "I'm just here to eliminate the Ganon Band." He paused. "Impa sent me."

"And she did not see fit to explain? Curious."

"I'm not just here because of the Ganon Band, am I?"

The man sighed so deeply his head sagged. "Too much. This is a conversation for tea. Come."

* * *

He had a small room in the side of the "temple", as he called it, with a window looking out upon the lake. There was a wooden table in the center, bearing a metal tea kettle and an ancient, fading book. On the wall hung a pristine bow.. It had no splinters, the wood was fresh, and he thought there might be a coat of wax.

"How did you come by such things?" Link asked, while the old man began to boil water in the kettle.

"Time was no one would have thought to ask," he said. "I've had these all my life. When Hyrule fell, I took them with me. 'I'll do your fool quest,' I told her, 'but damned if I do it without my tea.'"

"Told who?"

"Oh, Zelda. No one you'd need to worry about." He waved off the question with his hand. "That's not important. Impa may think it's okay to send you end here without the full story, but I am not so heartless. Now take your tea and shut up for a minute while I fill you in."

* * *

The man could talk, that was certain. Despite his amiable introduction, he droned like a withered scholar once he got going. Link followed him for the most part, but occasionally had to bring his attention back to the lecture.

"So to sum up," Link said at the end, "this temple houses a magic artifact-"

"A shard of the Triforce of Wisdom."

"-the Ganon Band is out in search of said artifact, and that's also the reason the skeleton things-"

"Stalfos."

"-aren't completely dead. And to top it all off you've got some goddess-appointed guardian-"

"Aquamentus."

"-no, that's a  _stupid_  name and I'm not saying it. You've got some guardian in there to kill anyone-me-who tries to take it."

The man sighed. "A crude summary, but good enough for bureaucratic work."

"Please give me one reason why I ought to care about any of this at all." Link eyed the man levelly as he finished the last sip of his tea.

"Hope in a world reborn," the man said, matching his gaze.

"Hope is a dream, nothing more." Link stood. "The Knights of Hyrule failed. Don't drag me into this."

"One more reason, then," the man said, his voice suddenly stern and forceful. "Because the Ganon Band is in this temple as we speak. If they gain the Triforce, the world becomes all that more dangerous for travelers such as yourself."

Link swore.

"Fine. I will solve your problem. This time. Give me your bow."

Without a word, the man removed the weapon from the wall and handed it over, along with a quiver of arrows in the corner. He had not held a bow since the fall of Hyrule, but anything was better than his toy sword.

"Where is the Triforce shard?"

"Eastmost peninsula." The man reached into his billowing sleeves and produced a compass. "This will help."

Link stormed out of the room. He was done with these old knights and their plots.

He ran. The temple was a maze of twisty passages, all alike, but with the compass he continued in an easterly direction. It gave him an advantage over the intruders who would have to search every room so as to be sure not to overlook the Triforce.

When his charge carried him into a room filled with Goriyas, he did not slow down. He drew his bow as he ran, releasing two arrows before even reaching the far wall. Two of the monsters were slain before they had even rallied. Initiative, once lost, is hard to regain, and Link had little trouble cleaning up the rest of the room.

 _I should stop here_ , he told himself. After all, the Ganon Band was dealt with. But he wasn't sure that was the entire group. He had a duty to keep going, thanks to the accursed knights. No one else could stop the Ganon Band. Link had no dreams for a healed world, but he could stop it from breaking further.

He continued his trek east, now panting heavy. He started to hear a low, loud growl emanating from the direction he traveled. The guardian the man had mentioned, most likely. Link ran faster.

He emerged into a wide cavernous hall and immediately dived to the side. A large ball of flame narrowly missed his prone body, singeing his hair, before impacting the wall behind him.

"Oh, come on!"

He sprang to his feet, coming face-to-face with a massive dragon with a single fearsome horn protruding from its head.

"That's not bloody fair!"

He released an arrow just in time to dodge another burst of flame. He'd won an archery competition or two in his day, sure, but nothing could have prepared him for  _this_.

"Stupid. Bloody. Goddesses," he said, each word punctuated with an arrow. "Stupid. Flaming. Knights." Some of them even punctured the skin. The dragon just roared, even angrier now, and charged. It was a cumbersome beast, and Link easily stepped aside, allowing it to crash against the wall.

"I'm trying to  _help_ , you insufferable meddlers." He hopped on the dazed dragon's back, attempting to cut it with the sword, but of course it could do nothing against the thick scales.

"A wooden sword. A wooden bloody sword against a light-forsaken dragon!  _Oh, you need to learn control first_. No, I need to kill a bloody dragon, and you bloody knew it."

The dragon threw him from its back, and he bounced off the floor. Link barely even felt the impact, fueled as he was by spite and annoyance.

He should really just leave it alone, but now the dragon was between him and the only door.

"If I get out of this alive, I promise to stop being so honest."

More fireballs. This time, he wasn't fast enough, and his shirt caught fire. He tore it off with a yelp.

He couldn't survive much longer. He was too exhausted to make the sword beams work. The arrows were the only effective weapon he had, but he couldn't aim well enough to get them through the monster's eye where they would actually do damage.

The next time the dragon charged, Link went for its neck, jumping on and holding fast. The dragon whipped it back and forth, but Link just held on, waiting for it to get tired.

He shimmied up the long neck, the dragon's scales scraping his bare chest.

"Sorry, brother," Link said. "I didn't set you up here."

And with that, he drew an arrow from his quiver and shoved it up the dragon's eye socket. His foe unleashed the most fearsome cry Link had ever heard, a piercing wail that wormed through Link's ears into his head.

It fell hard; Link did not have time to jump away. The great neck landed atop his leg, trapping him against the ground. Blood poured from the eye socket in ever-shrinking spurts, until at last it stopped and Link lay in a pool of warm, sticky fluid.

Link did not move for a long time. He just lay there, breathing in the cold temple air. He was alive, somehow. And he would stay alive. He would leave Hyrule, find some other land and pick up their language. Go somewhere all these knights would never find him again. This was their war; let them fight it. He was done.

Just as soon as he retrieved the Triforce shard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any geologists for my wanton misuse of the word "peninsula." My hands are bound by the source material. My girlfriend has already chastised me over it, so there is is no need to send angry messages. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  I start to introduce some OCs in this chapter. If you take a look back at the original LoZ and think about how many in-game characters I have to work with, I hope you can forgive me. This is also where I start embellishing the plot of the game for (what I hope to be) a better reading experience.

**Chapter 3**

_Now it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway._

J. R. R. Tolkien -  _The Hobbit_

Link staggered across an open field. No cover anywhere, nor shade, nor hint of forage. It didn't matter anymore. He just had to keep moving, away from the temple, out of Hyrule.

Blood leaked from his chest in two places, and a fierce burn marred his entire left side. He had taken more damage from the fight with the dragon than he'd noticed at the time. He was still hale enough to keep moving, but only just.

He didn't even bother avoiding the road, as he normally did. Moving was less painful over a flat, solid surface. Or flat and solid as the roads ever were nowadays. Already patches of grass and shootlets of shrubbery began to grow over it.

His wandering took him to an abandoned building that may have once been a farmhouse, overgrown as everything else in Hyrule. No hope of finding any food there, of course, but worth checking for anything useful while he was here.

The inside, of course, had long ago been looted. All that remained were fragments from the windows, scraps not worth picking up. He was able to find a torn cloth he used to sop of some of his blood. Better than nothing.

He refilled his water skin from the well outside, then continued on. He advanced, his legs screaming with each step, his strength ebbing with each meter. The sun peaked, then descended again, and then, at last, vanished. Still, Link continued until his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the grassy plain, unconscious.

* * *

Link woke and found himself lying in a bed. The ceiling looked strange; it was flat, and it had dark beams richly carved. The linens were white and thick, and softer than anything Link could remember.

"Where am I?" Link muttered.

"You are in a hospital in the Abbey of the Three."

Link turned to see a middle-aged woman wearing a plain blue robe. She strode into the small room, hands folded in front of her.

"We found you outside two days ago," she said. "How do you feel?"

Link sat up, and immediately his head started throbbing. He raised up a leaden arm to hold her at bay.

"Are you with the Knights of Hyrule?"

The woman stopped short, arching her eyebrows. "The Knights of Hyrule are all dead. We are the religious order who saved your life, and you are being more than a little rude right now."

Link let himself relax back on the bed. "Yes, you're right. I apologize. It's been a trying week, but I no longer feel near death. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

She introduced herself as Sister Margaretta as she tended to him. She helped him sit up and drink a little water. The cool liquid made him realize how miserable he had felt before. His head cleared a little, and he was able to stand. Sister Margaretta hovered by his side as he stretched his legs with a small circuit around the abbey hospital.

"Did you happen to get my gear as well?"

She nodded. "It is being held safe." She paused. "Your shirt was already gone when we found you."

"Yes, it kind of went on fire a little bit."

Good that they didn't leave his stuff. If monsters had carried off the Triforce shard... too bad for Hyrule. He wasn't about to go out after it again. Of course, he would have to check on it himself to be sure.

After an hour of checking over his wounds, Margaretta finally left him alone for long enough to check on his belongings. The Triforce shard was indeed bundled in his pouch. He checked it as discreetly as he could, and as best he could tell Sister Margaretta made no notice of anything odd.

There was little to occupy his time as he made his recovery. Sister Margaretta brought in a selection of books from the library, but most were theological tomes far above his level. There was a collection of short poems he could force himself to get through, tepid things to teach children about the goddesses, but for most of the day it was either that or nothing.

After the first night, he took his meals with the rest of the abbey. Or at least, in the same room. He found himself shunted off to a side table with the rest of the inhabitants who were not members of the order proper: Fauchelevent the gardener, and an orphan girl, Collette, who was too young to take any oaths.

"I was a lawyer before the fall," Fauchelevent said. "No care for the law since Ganon. You  _may_  do what you  _can_  do, that's all the law there is now. So I take care of the garden and grow what I can before I die. Or Hyrule dies. Whichever comes."

His garden was fruitful indeed. They had fresh vegetables at each meal: whether roast carrots, braised celery, or other plants Link had never heard of. There were lentils flavored with pepper and scallions, eggs fried with tomatoes, and tea for all. At one meal, he even got a piece of fruit.

On the third day, Sister Margaretta began to remove his bandages. They stung a bit as they come off, but it seemed the skin had closed up, and she said there was no need for further treatment if he felt fine.

At that moment the high pitched peal of an alarm bell interrupted them. Margaretta froze. "Moblins at the gate."

Grabbing his sword, bow, and quiver, Link followed Sister Margaretta in a dash up three flights of stairs. In his weakened state, he was able to keep up with her, but severely winded by the time he reached the top. Link clutched parapets atop the red sandstone walls, regaining his breath and bearing.

The sisters already there were poorly armed, most clutching fragments of masonry. A few had slings. At their head stood a trio of women, hair dyed red, green, and blue. The one in green turned to him and grinned.

"The Goddesses have sent a warrior in our time of need," she said.

Link bit back his response. He was certainly not in the business of answering prayers.

"Happy to help. It's my neck too," he said instead.

He peered over the battlements. A dense forest surrounded the abbey starting a few hundred meters out. A gaggle of Moblins made their way up the path to the front gate, just as it emerged from the trees.

Link blinked. "This is it?"

The woman with blue hair scowled. "Moblins are no small nuisance, sir. In the countryside-"

"But this is like a giant abbey-castle thing with thick walls, right? What are they going to do? If they're dumb enough to get close, we just drop some rocks on their heads, we win. Boom, that simple. Trust me, there's literally nothing that could go wrong here."

Half the Moblin contingent blew up.

Some of the sisters screamed and fell back.

"Hold to your stations," yelled Red. "Steady!"

The explosion was too distant to be very loud, but the suddenness of it shocked Link. Why would they just blow up like that?

"I'm going to check it out," he said. Taking a nearby coil of rope, he tied it around one of the parapets and vaultedover the side to rappel down.

"Sister Margaretta, did you remember the mental health evaluation?"

He ignored them, and touched down moments later. He charged down the path, scattering the Moblins with just a few shots from his sword. He picked through the charred remains, looking for the source of the explosion. He found a handful of undamaged arrows around the perimeter of the blast, which he added to his quiver. On the tip of one, he found a few specks of a fine black powder. He glanced down to see a small dotted trail of it running to a bag on the side of the road. Inside, there were a small number of black metal balls, with a small knot of cord emerging from each.

"I've heard of these," he muttered to himself, holding one in his hand. He thought bomb technology died out with the Knights of Hyrule. But how did the Moblins get access? How could they even transport them this far without blowing themselves up? They were far too dumb to use tools this sophisticated.

More importantly, could he make them work?

Soon he had a small fire going in the middle of the path. Using a twig, he lit the fuse and hurled the bomb as far down the path as he could before diving behind tree cover.

The explosion shook his chest and left his ears ringing. Fragmentation ploughed into the tree he was using for cover.

A small yelp followed the explosion, and then Sister Margaretta stormed up.

"Are you quite finished playing?" she demanded.

Link looked up at her. "These things are really cool!"

Margaretta crossed her arms. "I know what you're thinking, and absolutely not. We are not bringing anything that blows up inside the abbey."

"Well, we can't have any Moblins coming back for them. Guess that means we need to blow them all up right now." Link held up the burning twig. "You want a go?"

* * *

Link rested for two more days in the abbey hospital. Several times, Sister Margaretta would come to walk him around or read to him. She was poor for conversation outside of medicine or theology, but Link took his enjoyment where he could.

"What's with the colors," he asked one day.

"We serve the three golden goddesses, Din, Nayru, and Farore," she began to explain. "Each has their own group of dedicants. I wear blue, as a sister devoted to Nayru.

"The heads of our orders are oracles through which the goddesses speak. They lead us in our quest to elevate Hyrule out of our current darkness."

It was an ambitious goal, and one Link wanted nothing to do with. Yet he was sure they would try to drag him into their mad plan anyway. It seemed to be the way of things, of late.

Sure enough, the next day he and Sister Margaretta were summoned to the office of the oracles. They each sat at a desk, hands folded, their eyes focused in an intense gaze that made him want to fidget.

"What are your plans moving forward?" asked Din. Margaretta had explained that the one with red hair was called Din, after the Goddess of Power. The blue-haired one was Nayru, and the final one Farore. Link would have thought such names would be sacrilegious, but he was no priest.

"I think you'll say whatever you want to say regardless of what my answer is, so can we please skip over the pleasantries?" Link said.

"Link, have some courtesy!" Margaretta hissed beside him.

But Nayru just chuckled and leaned forward.

"So let us be blunt," she said. "From the earlier attempted assault, it is clear the Ganon Band has targeted us. Their use of explosives makes them no small threat. As we are a religious order, we naturally have no trained warriors among us. You are clearly no stranger to conflict, and your… display of courage was the talk of the abbey for a day or two. In return for our continued hospitality, we would ask that you defend us from this threat by any means necessary."

"And we are certain our food is rather better than what you could scrounge for yourself outside," Farore added.

"Yeah, sure," Link said.

Margaretta poked him. Hard.

"I mean, it would be highly honorable to, uh… acquiesce to, ah-"

Another poke.

"Link would be delighted to take command of the defense of the abbey, Reverend Mothers," Margaretta cut in.

At their desks, the oracles' eyes were all gleaming with suppressed laughter.

"It seems that settles things," said Din. "Report back tomorrow evening with your initial plan for our review."

"And we'll have to find you an etiquette tutor as well," said Farore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There are lots of small (non-Zelda) references in this chapter. Can you spot them all?


	4. Chapter 4

 

_Logistics is the stuff that if you don't have enough of, the war will not be won as soon as._

Gen. Nathaniel Greene

Now that he was recovered, the abbey put Link in a shack with Fauchelevent, just outside the garden. It was a single room, bare save for a table, the old gardener's bed, and a small set of dishes. Fauchelevent helped Link carry in his mattress from the abbey storeroom. Despite his bad leg he held up heartily, and would not hear of Link trying to bring it in himself.

"We help each other here," he said. "That's what it's all about, if you get to the heart of things. And if you're here to secure us against the Ganon Band, then welcome indeed."

The abbey also lent him a small wooden chest to hold his scant belongings while he was there. Having no lock, it was largely useless, but he could at least secure his gear while he slept. As Fauchelevent said his evening prayers, Link carefully arranged his weapons and the Triforce shard in the chest. He then lay down on the mattress, draping his left arm fully over the chest. Now no one could open or move the chest without waking him.

"I'm not going to take your stuff, lad," said Fauchelevent. "The law's still written here, on my heart. I've played the jealous materialist in my youth, and what did that ever get me?" He slapped his leg, then winced. "A shattered leg and a black heart. No sir, not for me. Your tools are safe where they are."

"I thank you for your hospitality, and if your heart is as you say, I have found a true companion indeed. But I will still take my own precautions."

* * *

His work planning the defense of the abbey began the next morning. He had little enough gear that it was simple to secure it on his person. The Triforce shard, he hung on a leather pouch about his neck.

His first stop was Sister Margaretta's office adjoining the abbey hospital. She sat behind a sturdy desk, pouring over a book of some sort.

"I need an overview of the abbey's current defense," he began with no prelude. "Who coordinates the watch, and how? Are any sisters trained in combat, and how often do they practice with their ranged weapons? How is the abbey provisioned? In short, what are our assets?"

Margaretta clenched her fists and stayed bent over her desk a few moments longer. Then, with a careful exhale, she sat up.

"I am not your logistics officer," she said, her voice careful and tight. "I am the abbey healer."

"I've heard that before. I'm just some vagabond, not a hero, but guess what? Last week I killed a dragon, which shouldn't even exist, and now I'm responsible for the lives of everyone here for some idiot reason. So don't give me that 'it's not my job' nonsense, because I am not at all sympathetic right now. You're the only sister in this abbey I actually know, so yes, this is your job if you care at all about its defense. I need to know what this abbey is and how things work, and right now you're the only one who can tell me."

Margaretta slowly pushed herself up to stand with her hands spread on the desk before her.

"Yes, it seems I have been quite remiss in not educating you on the purpose and workings of our Order," she said, her eyebrows drawn tight. "Consider the legends of Hyrule. In every era, a great darkness rises and threatens the balance of life. Every era, a hero rises to banish the darkness, but what then? Civilization has still fallen. The land is still broken, and the people still grieve.

"The great darkness is upon us again. Outside these walls, its victory is nearly complete, even without the presence of the Ganon Band. The bonds of society are broken, and people focus only on saving themselves. This abbey is the last bastion of civilization, sworn to rebuild once the darkness passes.

"As such, your continuing rudeness is completely unacceptable."

Link blinked. "Moblins have weaponized black powder, and you want to talk about manners?"

"You will hear me out!" she demanded. "Injury is a poor excuse for bad behavior, but at the beginning, I was willing to overlook it. Your ways are not our own, after all, and even an arrogant-" she cut herself off and growled softly. "Everyone has a right to health, no matter their habits.

"Well. Now you are no longer my patient, but a member of our community, of our  _society_ , if not our order. Treating others with respect, considering their needs and desires and yes, even their feelings, the simple adornments of 'please' and 'thank you,' this is the basis of civilization, the core of what we stand for, and all the more important in this, the eye of the great darkness. If you had no mother to train you in this as a child, that is no excuse to not pick it up as an adult; I see you have the intelligence for it. I will not stand for your uncouth, uncivilized behavior, and neither will the other sisters for much longer."

Link held her gaze for a moment. He saw the anger in her contracted pupils and heaving chest.

"It means so much to you?" he said.

Margaretta nodded. "It does. What good is defeating Ganon if we lose our souls in the fight?"

She was being silly. They're only words, and an assault on Ganon's keep atop Death Mountain was certainly not worth considering. But the wise warrior chooses his battles carefully.

"I'll comply while I stay in the abbey, but be patient with me as I learn properly." He paused. "Please."

"I'm glad this is behind us." She nodded and resumed her seat.

* * *

Sister Margeretta had been twice the spring of information as Link had hoped, and by afternoon, his head was fit to burst. He had learned as much as he could take in about how the abbey handled gathering food, distributing labor, and crafting tools. He'd studied the hierarchy of sisters, met the key leadership, and begun to get a feel for how he could organize them into some semblance of an effective defense.

His mind was wandering away, and he needed a break. He had learned that when life turns chaotic, when somehow you have to figure out how to do everything  _right now_ , the closest you could get to a break was if you started a new task that needed a different way of thinking.

And so, he grabbed a few slices of braised celery topped with fresh nut butter from the kitchens and trod off to the small classroom in the eastern corner.

Young Collete's head drooped over a small book, while the woman he assumed to be Sister Carlotta scribbled at her desk in the back. The Sister's eyes raised as Link entered.

"I've heard of you. What do you want?"

"I need to read better," Link said. "They say you're the best for that."

Collete's head shot up. " _You_  don't know how to  _read?"_

"Attend to your studies girl, don't be rude," Carlotta snapped. She walked over to the bookcase at the side of the classroom and began to scan it, tracking her progress with a bony finger.

"I shall assume I don't need to hold your hand," she said, plucking out a thin book. "Let me know if this feels too easy or too difficult." She lowered her voice as she handed the book to him. "Thank you for not wasting my time with nonsense."

He sat down at an empty desk with the book, ignoring Collette's stare. ("Mind your work, girl!" snapped Carlotta.) It appeared to be a single long poem.

_With flaming arms, the goddess Din_

_Forged rock and hill and mountains vast._

_She hollowed out a core within_

_And filled it with a fiery blast._

And on and on.

He knew 'Din' already. Margaretta had made sure of that while he recovered. 'Arms' and 'rock' were easy, and he could get through all the small connecting words. But of course, the poet had to go screw up the normal order of things, making him work twice as hard to understand anything at all.

He closed the book. He must have closed it too hard because when he looked up, he saw Carlotta glaring at him. He spoke before she could object.

"Do you have anything else?" he asked. "I expect to be reading supply logs and reports. I need practical words, not poetry."

"You did  _not_  just seriously ask for something  _boringer_ ," said Collete, her mouth agape.

"Collete, do I understand that you have insufficient work to hold your attention?"

"No, Sister Carlotta," she mumbled.

"I have a history book somewhere," she said, returning to the bookshelf. "Written for the layperson, but if you can handle it, you can make it through any of our reports. And here's a dictionary, if you don't know any of the words." She dropped the two books on his desk. "You know how to use it?"

"It's been many a long year, but I reckon I can remember," Link said.

He turned to all the maps first. There was Lake Hylia, and Darunia Road leading to Death Mountain. The words were easy to recognize when he was expecting them. He couldn't become a fluent reader easily, but the common words were quick to learn, and he could soon recognize "river", "mountain", "fort", "stream", "cliff", and "forest" when they appeared normally in the text.

As he was about to call a close on his studies for the day, a new sister clad all in red strode in.

"Good afternoon, Collette dear. Ready for another arithmetic lesson?"

"Yes, Sister Aerial."

"Oh, and you must be Link! I had no idea you would be joining us. But of course, you must miss out on so much of our accumulated knowledge, living outside the abbey walls. Fear not, Sister Carlotta and I can get you up to speed. Tell me, can you count?"

"I'm afraid that's all the time I have for studying today, sister," Link said standing up. "If I need help figuring I'll keep you in mind."

He thought he heard a huff as he returned the book to its place and exited with Sister Carlotta, but he paid it no mind. By the time he was out of the classroom, Aerial had already launched into a vivid story about two numbers walking side-by-side into a marketplace.

"Our reading hour starts just after breakfast, if you need to come back," Carlotta told him outside. "I can squeeze you in later, but for your own peace of mind, avoid the afternoon shift!"

* * *

His report to the oracles was scheduled after dinner. He ate little and slowly. He had been overfed anyway this past week, and it would not do to be lethargic during the briefing.

"You feeling well, lad?" asked Fauchelevent. "You've hardly touched the cobbler."

"If you're asking for extra food, you're welcome to it."

" _I_  want some cobbler," Collete said.

Link slid his plate in between the two of them. "If the Sisters find out you got extra sweets, I had nothing to do with it. Any tips for a good presentation, Fauchelevent? I'm not much of a talker."

The old lawyer shrugged. "Slow down. Don't mumble. Do it so often you stop feeling anything. Don't ask questions you don't know the answer to."

"Sister Carlotta says to not to do any, um..." Collete scrunched up her face. "Vocalized pauses."

Link blinked. "What?"

"Um, uh, and whatnot," said Fauchelevent. He pointed at Link with a blueberry-stained fork. "Don't open your mouth unless something intelligent is about to come out."

"'Don't talk' is not useful counsel." Link rolled his eyes. "If you're taking what's on my plate, take the plate too." He stood up. "I need to get my head right."

Link made his way to the oracle's office. The advice he had wanted from Fauchelevent had been more how to slow down his heart and keep his sweat from gluing his shirt to his back, and less how to speak proper. Why did making a report feel so much harder than running off a horde of Moblins?

_Because Moblins are dumb, right._

At least the office was up three sets of stairs and at the other end of the abbey. It gave him a chance to work off the nervous energy. He waited outside their door, trying not to pace about. He immediately regretted coming early. The oracles would be still leading dinner, and not be finished for some time longer, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts.

His pulse had calmed somewhat by the time the trio of oracles arrived. Farore and Nayru still seemed a bit giddy from the meal, but as they came to the door they regained their solemnity. As they passed him through the doorway, he felt a fierce burning against his chest where the Triforce shard hung. He clutched at it briefly, but the oracles had already entered and did not notice.

"Well, you have had a day to prepare, and I am sure we are all eager to hear your report," Nayru said, settling in her chair.

"Our first two problems solve each other," Link began. "Problem one: duties are divided, quote 'according to the virtues of the patron goddess.' Which means that with few exceptions, the sisters of Din are the only ones who have any muscle and are accustomed to physical labor. This leaves the core defense of the abbey to only a third of its members. Clearly unacceptable."

"Problem two: the abbey is surrounded by forest. The provides cover for invading Moblins. It provides forage for them to maintain a siege, and it provides material for them to build siege engines. Of course, Moblins are too bloody stupid-"

Farore cleared her throat.

"-too stupid to build siege engines, but then they're also too stupid to make bombs, so who knows what the-, uh, who knows what's going on anymore. The solution is obvious. Everyone chops wood, our forest goes away, and the other two-thirds of the Sisters starts gaining muscle."

"What's your timeline for clearing the forest?" Din asked.

"Without further intelligence, no timeline. Three daily rotations of four-hour shifts of chopping will be good to start. Meanwhile, sisters will patrol the outside forest for signs of enemy advance. If they march before we're ready, the drought has made it quite flammable."

Nayru and Farore sprang to their feet.

"You propose to burn down the forest?" said Nayru.

"Absolutely not," said Farore. "Our duty is to preserve life, not destroy it."

"What, burning's bad, but cutting's okay?" Link said. He rolled his eyes. "Look, my understanding was that the goal was to protect the abbey over everything. Now if you have competing interests, that's something I need to know before I start planning."

Din alone remained cool. "This is a measure of last resort, yes? Link, how likely would you say it is you go through with this plan?"

"Well that depends on how fast you can cut, and how soon more Moblins get here," he said. "Obviously I'm not just going to burn everything to ashes just for fun, but one way or another, this forest is an asset for the enemy and it needs to go."

The other two oracles continued glaring at him, but at last Nayru took a breath. "We hear your suggestion, and we will begin work felling trees. The decision whether to use fire remains with us. Continue."

What Link  _wanted_  to say was that he wasn't about to stand by if they were determined to prosecute the battle like a band of sentimental idiots. But he recalled Sister Margeretta's lecture (and perhaps the tastes of the abbey's glazed carrots), and what he said instead was:

"Once we've pushed out the treeline, we need a ditch. A big one. The abbey has corners. Structural weak points. They have bombs, assuming they ever manage to carry them over here without blowing themselves up. Not a good combination. A big enough ditch limits their access to a single path, which is a lot easier to defend than the entire perimeter."

As he talked, the triforce shard continued to burn, though not as intensely as that first burst, and it exerted the faintest tug about his neck. He tried to ignore it as he continued.

"Anyone not strong enough to cut trees or dig holes can work on weapons. We have a few slings already, but every sister needs one. Every sister needs a back-up sling. Every sister needs to drill with them daily. We also need a stockpile of pebbles and rocks on the abbey wall, the more the better. A couple volleys will drive off most normal-sized Moblin bands. If they come in larger numbers, we can severely disrupt them before they reach the gate.

"For the final piece, we need the smart, creative people to start figuring out better tools. We can throw pebbles, but before Ganon, Hyrule Castle had machines that could throw  _boulders_. If we take the Moblins' explosives stash, how can we use it against them safely? Is there a better defense than a big ditch?"

"Naturally, this design team should be exempt from the labor," Nayru said.

" _Everyone_ works," Link said. "They can think while they cut."

"But-"

"Do you know how many people are in this abbey? Enough to repel a stray hoard, maybe. But that's not our threat. Someone gave the Moblins black powder and sent them at this abbey. There is some intelligence making war against us, and there is not a single warrior here aside from me. We cannot afford to lose workers for the defense. We cannot afford to have sisters with soft bodies. So unless you know a way to recruit a bunch more people, or you can pray to the goddesses and have them make more people, everyone works."

Farore started giggling. Everyone turned to stare at her as she raised her hand to the mouth, fighting vainly to stifle herself.

"Sorry," she said. "Just pondering, um, the logistics." When she composed herself, she added: "Are all your proposals purely defensive, then?"

"For now, for you, yes. While you begin preparations here, I will attempt to follow the trail the Moblins left back to its source. With any luck, I can root out the problem at the source. The trail is growing stale by now, but Moblins are hardly subtle. I can pick it up."

"Not alone," Din said. "Take some sisters with you, so they can learn what you do."

"Absolutely not," Link said. "There's no room and no time for amateurs."

"I agree with Din," Nayru said. "Surely you can see that it's dangerous for there to only be one… adventurer among us in these times. And of course, we can be much more certain of a Sister's loyalty than yours. I'm afraid we must insist on this condition."

Beside her Farore nodded in agreement.

"Fine, but whoever comes will be a volunteer, and my choice of the volunteers."

The rest of the briefing proceeded smoothly. There were only details left, of the sort that were vital but still made Link's eyes heavy and his head spin. They discussed provisioning of the infirmary, rationing, command structure, stockpiles, specialization, and the abbey's metal reserves.

The sun had set completely by the time Link escaped the room, barely holding himself upright. He shut the door, turned into the adjoining hallway, and sank against the wall to rest. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was somehow playing into Impa's schemes. Before he met her, he was free to do as he wished. He had gone hungry more than he would have liked, but he got by, and slept and moved about as he pleased. In the abbey, there was more food than he wanted, but the Sisters followed a strict routine, and he bore the heavy responsibility of everyone's life.

And Hyrule's entire future as well, if their babble about their mission could be believed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Link's being such a jerk right now. I want to slap him too.

_Home is behind, the world ahead,_   
_And there are many paths to tread_   
_Through shadows to the edge of night,_   
_Until the stars are all alight._

_-_ J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Link roused himself before dawn the next morning. It was a skill he'd had as far back as he could remember, and vital for one surviving with no friends to stand watch.

The ability to dispel the headache from too little sleep did not come so easily.

"Heading out so early?" Fauchelevent mumbled.

"Promised the oracles I'd take my choice of volunteers," Link said. "So I'm choosing my volunteers two hours before dawn. Not my fault if no one shows up."

He snatched his weapons from his chest, then lowered his Triforce shard about his neck.

"Being too clever, lad" Fauchelevent said, sitting up and rubbing his face. "Don't underestimate the sisters. The abbey survived to be the last bastion of civilization for a reason."

Link ignored the comment for a moment, stretching out his back. The biting stiffness that greeted him at the start of each day had faded over the past few weeks. Perhaps it was due to the sleeping mat.

"Apparently not for their military might," he responded when he released the stretch.

"It's dangerous to go alone. Be careful," Fauchelevent said.

As he stepped outside, the pre-dawn chill kissed his neck and arms, revitalizing him. He took a couple deep breaths before continuing to the abbey field where he was to meet the candidates for the day's adventure.

He sighed on arrival. "Collete, what the- what are you doing here? Why are you even awake?"

"I'm coming with, of course." She was perky as only a child could be in the early morning, bouncing from foot to foot and grinning like a fool.

Link groaned.

"Aw, come on," the girl said. She planted her hands on her hips. "Give me one single reason why I can't."

"Because Sister Margaretta would murder me."

"Why am I murdering you today?" muttered Margeretta, rubbing her face as she walked up. "Collete, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"But-" Collete cut herself off and sighed. "Yes, Sister Margaretta." She stuck out her tongue at Link then walked primly back toward the abbey quarters.

"Teach me how to do that one day," Link said.

"It won't work, you know," Margeretta said.

"Pardon?"

"Your scheme. To run off alone by starting so early. We love the abbey too much to let something like that hold us back."

She was right. As always. Already other sisters were beginning to trickle onto the field.

"Sending off the healer to go adventuring sounds like a bad idea, even for me," Link said.

"Oh, I'm not coming with you. I'm just here to make sure you actually take some of the volunteers along."

"Plenty to choose from, at least," Link said.

Indeed, the number of sisters lingering around had nearly tripled during their conversation. Link waited a few more minutes until it seemed no one else was coming, then turned to face them.

"Everyone knows what you're here for?" he asked.

Murmured assent.

He looked over the sisters. They had assembled themselves into three groups, by color, naturally. Nearly everyone was garbed in green, the color of Farore. There were a handful of sisters in the red of Din, and but one in Nayru's blue.

He pointed at Nayru's disciple. "I'll take you," and then at the red sister bearing a pack, "and you." He turned around. "Let's go, I want to find the Moblins by evening."

Behind him, a mass cry of protest. He should have known it wouldn't be that simple. "You're just ignoring the Farore order?" "What about me? Why her?" And a cascade of other voices he couldn't bother to distinguish.

Margaretta touched his arm. "Do this right or not at all," she said into his ear. "Think about it, at least!"

"I've thought all I need to," Link said. He raised his voice and gestured at the group of greens. "Half of you are here because you need to prove your courage or something ridiculous and don't want to be seen  _not_  showing up, and I really don't care to work out who's what. And then I just grabbed the two others who bothered to pack."

Silence greeted the explanation.

"Well, come on then," Link said at last. "Let's go find some explosives."

He turned again, and this time he heard the two pairs of feet running up behind him. Murmurs followed them until they left the abbey gates and broke into the field beyond. A few dozen paces separated the abbey from the surrounding forest, and in that time his companions pulled abreast of him.

"I'm Clara, that's Sophia," said the red one. She had a bounce to her gait, maybe a sign that her pack was too light. Sophia was more demure, keeping a few paces back. Whenever Link turned to her, he saw her eyes active, constantly scanning.

"Are we going to learn how to move silently through the woods?" Clara asked when Link did not respond.

"If you see something that'll make noise when you step on it, don't."

He studied the site of the explosion from two days ago. The route the Moblins had taken was obvious. Shattered branches littered a wide beaten path through the trees. Link began to follow it, then stopped. The entire point of bringing along the sisters was so the abbey would have more woodsmen if he died.

"You both see the wide swath the Moblins carved out here, right?"

"There's no need to be a jerk," Clara said. Sophia nodded and remained silent.

Link set off down the path.

"Are you going to be like this the entire journey?"

Link ignored her.

The forest continued for some miles, rising gently. After Link's days trapped in bed, and then in study, the exertion returned life to his legs. The trees staved off the worst of the burning summer sun, a private bubble of dimly-lit peace.

Some time after lunch, they came upon a broader opening of the narrow path. Beside the path, the trees that remained were covered in charring and dried blood. Decaying Moblin bits littered the ground.

Link moved to the center of the blast site. "These guys really don't handle explosives well," he muttered. "And they really want you dead for some reason." He stared at Clara and Sophia, guaging their reactions for any hint that they might understand what they had all been plunged into.

Clara stood wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling at a slightly elevated rate. Sophia stood distant. Her eyes flitted over the carnage; the rest of her face remained impassive.

Link glanced around, then plunged into the brush adjoining the path. He picked up a pair of spears in well-enough condition and handed them to the sisters.

"There, now you're armed."

"Mine still has a hand attached," Clara grumbled.

Sophia took hold of Clara's spear with one hand, and with the other pried the clasping remains of the moblin from its weapon.

"I like her," Link said, continuing down the path.

"That's because you can just ignore her."

"Yeah, funny how that works, isn't it?"

As the sun began to set, Link called a halt.

"I'm good for a couple more miles, and so's the sky," Clara said.

"There's a good glade for waiting out the night," Link said. "Besides, we're making good time, and I don't want to miss anything important in dim light."

As Clara and Sophia settled in, Link made a wide circle, checking for signs of Moblins, or other dangers. As he walked his patrol, he slew a pair of rabbits with his sword beam and brought them back to cook and eat with some cheese from the abbey.

The sisters prayed over the meal, and Link waited, bored, for them to finish.

"So why just the three goddesses?" he asked. "I mean, there's that Zephos dude, and then… Cyclops... Cyrus..."

"Cyclos?" Clara prodded.

"Yeah, him. Why's no one ever pray to Cyclos?"

Clara and Sophia exchanged a glance, and Link knew he'd asked a stupid question.

"Cyclos is a folk god," Clara said.

"He's not good enough for you, you mean." He nibbled at the too-warm cheese; the rabbits were still too hot to eat. He was fine with the luxury; if they didn't have all the cheese tonight, it would soon go bad.

Clara sighed. "Sailors live and die by the wind. Before each voyage, they pray for fair winds, they make their wards against storms. Zephos is their god. They are special to each other.

"A farmer doesn't care where the wind blows. She sings the Earth god's lyrics as she plants her seed.

"The three golden goddesses are more abstract. Who prays for courage alone, or power? Without priests or priestesses, the greatest of our deities would have no prayers at all."

"This does not account for Hylia," Link said.

Another deep sigh.

"The goddess Hylia became flesh and dwells among us in Hyrule's Princess Zelda. Surely you don't suggest we pray to a fellow Hylian. She only asks that we follow her laws and serve Hyrule."

"How convenient for the princess," Link challenged. He tried to grab a chunk of the rabbit. It was almost cool enough. The heat poked his fingers as he tore of a chunk. Gamey and meatless as everything ever was now, but food nonetheless.

"Lukahn writes that rulers the world over use some divine myth or other to legitimize their power," he said.

They were silent a moment too long. Link looked up to see them both staring. Again.

"You've read Lukahn?" Sophia asked. Her low alto of a voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Seriously?" Clara said. "Wait, are we surprised that he was able to get his hands on Lukahn's work, or that he was able to read it?"

"When was this? Is there a surviving copy?"

Link searched his memory, then gave up. "I don't remember that far back."

"What? What do you mean you can't remember?" Clara said. "This is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard."

"Only thing I can remember is wandering Hyrule, trying to survive." He shrugged. "Everyone forgets their early memories."

"Yeah, their early memories, not their entire childhood. People don't just completely forget the event of studying political philosophy. Sophia, are you hearing this liar?"

The girl was impassive. "We are not the arbiters of truth."

"Obviously I read it at one point before the Fall. I forgot reading it, but I remember the contents. It's not that odd. You're overreacting."

Clara dropped her rabbit bone to the ground and crossed her arms. "Something's still fishy. Tell me about your mother."

"Don't remember."

"You had a mother, yes."

"I spawned among a sea of blood and monsters," Link deadpanned.

"What, are you an orphan?"

"I told you, I don't remember that far back."

"What, your entire childhood? No, no way." She turned to Sophia. "This doesn't make any sense. He's being dumb."

"He  _is_  dumb. There's a difference."

"If you're quite finished deciding what's wrong with me, let's prepare the camp for bed," Link said. He kicked dirt on the cooking fire until it went out, then they all smoothed out a space on the ground for sleeping.

Clara and Sophia had brought blankets that they unpacked and spread out. Link didn't see why; the space they took up far outweighed any comfort they might bring.

"I'll stand the middle watch," he said when they were settled. "Wake me in three hours."

"Fine. Good night, then," Clara said.

"Blonde hair," Link said, suddenly.

"What?"

"I can remember silky locks of hair falling like rays of golden sunshine. And a high clear voice that laughed like a brook and sang out a simple song of joy and peace."


	6. Chapter 6

 

 _Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?_ _ **  
**_ _Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?_  
Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?  
Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?  
Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?  
Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?  
Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?  
Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.  
Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?  
None is so fierce that dare stir him up:

Job 41:1-10a

Link let Clara take the lead following the trail. The point was to get her some experience after all, and the sooner they were good to go off on their own, the sooner he could stop dragging them along.

The forest began to thin out as they made progress. Without the dense foliage, the trail became harder to pick out. Clara hesitated at a couple points to study the ground and surrounding trees. Link let her think. In the end, she made the right decisions, and her choices grew more confident.

The forest ended. Beyond lay a clearing, and in the middle a gray stone structure, curving away from them in the shape of a crescent.

"Is that the moon temple? It still stands?" Clara said. She began to dart out, but Link clamped his hand around her forearm.

"Careful," he said. "I don't care if it was the temple of obsequious divinity. It's a Moblin hideout now."

"How could you possibly know that for sure?" Clara said.

Link shrugged. "Trail leads here. It would be stupid if it wasn't."

"Stunning dialectic," Clara mumbled. "So what's our strategy?"

"This isn't a strategic situation," Link said. "Strategy is how we choose engagements and the circumstances in which they take place. A master strategist would maneuver his forces so that when they finally engage the enemy, there is no need to fight because victory is inevitable. The time to consider our strategic situation was before we set off."

"So what we're going to do now, is..." Clara prompted.

"Go in through the front door, kill any Moblins we see," Link said. He approached the temple. "Ready your slings. If there are still Moblins in here, we try to engage at long range. These guys are dumb, but they have a size and strength advantage on all of us."

He stepped inside. The building was in better shape than where he had found the first Triforce shard. He would not be able to rely on ambient light this time.

"Hang on," he said and went back to the forest. Within moments, he had fashioned a makeshift torch from a thick branch and set it alight."This'll probably go dark as soon as any fighting starts," he said, "so let's be sure to memorize the way in as we go."

They entered the temple again, staying close inside the circle of light. Link held the torch high with his right hand, leaving his left free for his sword. Inside the narthex, an odd sort of snake slithered about the floor. It was short and thick about the middle.

"I haven't seen a snake like this before," Link said. "Anyone know if it's venomous?"

"It's a rope, not a snake," Sophia said over his left shoulder.

Link looked back, forcing a tight smile. "You spend too much time in that abbey if you think that's what a rope is."

Sophia narrowed her eyes, but that was her only reaction. Her face returned to neutral, and she responded in her same soft voice. "I know what a rope is. This relative to the snake shares the same name. It's mostly harmless, unless it tries to ram us."

"Did you just say  _ram_ us?"

At that moment, the rope decided to strike. It compressed itself back toward the tail, then sprung forward, flying toward them with blinding speed. Link and Sophia sidestepped, and the rope splatted on the ground behind them with a hiss.

Clara swore, turning a hair later.

"Such language from a priestess," Link chided.

"Shut up, that was  _fast_ ," Clara said.

"Anyway, this seems like a perfect time for some spear training," Link said. The rope had turned itself around. Link kept his eye on it as he gave his instructions. "It's easy enough to dodge. We'll let it make another pass, then Clara, you skewer it while it recovers."

The rope charged again. Clara leaned back out of the way, then sprung forward, skewering it with a wild "HYAAH!" Her cry echoed in the bare room.

Link cringed. "Good aggression. Next time, let's do it without announcing ourselves to everyone else here."

He continued deeper into the temple, alert for signs that might lead to the Moblins' store. He wouldn't find the source of the powder; it didn't make sense to mine it inside a temple. If anything, he expected to find a cache for their operations in the area.

"Look at this," Clara said. She stood over a large hole in the cracked tile floor, wide enough to fit Link twice over. Inside, a crude ramp led downward into darkness.

"Did they dig a mine under the temple?" Link wondered aloud. He peered down. He couldn't see far before the torchlight ended. "Here, hold this." He passed the torch to Sophia.

He paused, forced himself to focus. Taking his wooden sword in both hands, he extended it forward. He slowly advanced, shooting a sword beam forward with each step. It illuminated the walls in passing, and with each flicker, Link slowly formed a picture of the passageway in his mind. Along the side of the walls he saw the outline of carved runes, though he did not have any spare attention to work out the details. But the Triforce shard hanging about his neck had started burning again, so he could make a pretty good guess what the symbols were about.

"Moblins didn't make this," Clara said. "These symbols must have come with the temple."

"No talking 'til we're at the bottom," Link whispered. Keeping his focus was hard enough without the distraction of their voices. Already, he could feel his mind waver, and some of the beams sputtered out before they had traveled any distance.

The ramp leveled out. A dirt wall barred forward progress, but to the left the corridor opened into a broad room. The torchlight illuminated a nest of ropes, who slowly turned their heads toward the intruders.

"Kneel!" Link barked. He snatched back the torch and shoved Sophia and Clara into a defensive spear formation inside the narrow opening, just wide enough to fit the two of them. Link crouched behind.

"Why are we in front?" Clara'svoice had risen in pitch, just a little, but still she controlled it.

"Ask later!" Link said.

The ropes charged. Link aimed his sword beams at them, and several burst apart in midair. There was no time to get them all, and soon the monsters began thudding into them. Clara and Sophia had positioned their spears so as to skewer any flying at their face. There was nothing to be done about the rest colliding with their bodies, eliciting small yelps and raising bruises.

Link chopped them with their sword after they fell to the ground from their lunge. Sophia had been knocked down, but stood and helped with the clean-up, while Clara scampered after her dropped spear.

"We need shields," Link said.

It was hard to pull himself up after that beating. He carefully felt along his ribs. Several tender spots, but nothing broken, he thought. Well, he would live, and he had been in worse pain before.

He heard the muted rumble of heavy footfalls echoing up through the passage at the other end of the chamber.

"Moblins, do you think?" Clara whispered.

"Almost certainly," Link said. Finally, the girl was taking things seriously. He motioned them to each wall bordering the door. "Stand close enough to see the door, no closer. Whoever comes through gets a barrage of stones."

His mind was too muddied with pain to conjure up any sword beams, he knew, so he readied his sling as well, filling it with a pebble from his pouch. He would have preferred to use his bow, but he still had to hold onto that stupid torch.

He stood between Clara and Sophia, in front of the door, so he'd be the first thing the Moblins saw when they entered.

"What if there are too many?" Clara said.

"Then we're in trouble. Now be quiet. This is supposed to be an ambush."

The footsteps grew louder, and with them, Link heard heavy breathing and exchanges of sharp, deep grunts and snorts. Clara and Sophia readied their slings.

The rumble reached a climax, and a beefy Moblin entered the room, pickaxe in hand. No sooner had he taken a step than stones from Sophia and Clara smashed into him. He stumbled to his knees. The Moblin behind him could not slow in time and fell over his companion. Link sent a pebble straight at his forehead.

They couldn't reload the slings fast enough to keep the Moblins in the doorway for long, he knew. The next pair of Moblins made it even farther into the room, and most were merely injured, not debilitated. Still, Link had the initiative.

There were half a dozen inside now. Most on the ground growling in pain, but that would not last.  _If we retreat, they will cut us down_ , Link knew.  _But if we don't do something, we just die a bit later_.

The Moblins' downfall was their stupidity, as always. While Clara and Sophia reloaded, and Link released a stone at a Moblin rising to its feet, another one charged in with a ferocious roar, a bomb held high overhead.

Link did not hesitate. He drew an arrow from his quiver. He passed the tip in front of the torch as his right hand dropped it and reached back to retrieve his bow. With the torch lying on the ground, the circle of light dimmed to almost nothing, but he held the image of the Moblin in his mind, heard him move into the room, distinct from the cries and rustles and stomps of all the other Moblins.

In less than a second, he drew and released. The arrow flew true, as he knew it would, and the bomb detonated.

Shards of hot metal raked his face, his limbs, his chest. He fell down, trying to come to terms with this new world of silence and darkness and pain. If his plan worked, all the Moblins would have been grouped together and died in the blast. The sisters might have been far enough away to survive as Link had. If only they were worse marksmen, more Moblins might have been standing to shield them from fragmentation.

Link forced himself to roll onto his stomach because blood was threatening to fall into his eyes. Some hearing had returned, but any detail was drowned out by a piercing ringing.

 _I have to move sometime_ , he told himself.  _I do not mean to die here_.

He crawled over to where he knew Sophia lay. She would have been the closer one. His open wounds stung as his tunic brushed against them. He tried to pull it off, but he found his arm didn't want to move that far back right then. He snarled and kept moving.

The torch went out. Link finished his crawl in darkness. His hand fell on Sophia's stomach, and she moved away.

"It's me," he said. "Are you okay?"

He could almost hear himself. He did not hear Sophia at all.

In the absence of light, he made a quick pass over her body, feeling for wounds. She writhed back as he patted her leg, kicking out at him with her other foot. He reached up and took her shoulder, trying to communicate reassurance through touch. He didn't know how well it worked. His whole world was darkness and pain and the growing stench of the Moblins.

Sophia grabbed back, clenching her fingers around his forearm. Her movements grew less frantic, and she fell still. Cautiously, Link resumed his blind examination. She stiffened and hissed and dug her nails deeper into his arm, but no reaction like the spot on her leg. Probably just the one laceration, then. Nothing to do about that.

He detached from her grip and guided her hand to the hem of his tunic, closing her fingers around it. She gripped tightly once she realized the plan. Together, they crawled over the scattered Moblin parts, toward Clara. Not feeling able to stand, Link pushed forward on his arms. Every time they hit the ground, more Moblin remains and blood clung to him. He tried not to think about the warm squishy feeling, or the inevitable infection. Just had to get to Clara.

She was spurting blood. He knew because it sprayed into his face when he leaned over her. Keeping hold of her collar, he flailed around with his free hand until it closed on her spear. He drew his sword and cut a short length from the end. Then, he rolled up the sleeve on the bleeding arm and ripped off a swath.

"This is going to hurt a lot," Link said. He could pick out his words this time. "But if you're in as much pain as I am, I don't reckon that'll make much difference."

He looped the cloth high above the spurting wound and winched down the makeshift tourniquet with the spear-end. He bent close over the arm, feeling the small geyser of blood against his face with each pulse of her heart. It weakened and weakened, until it stopped altogether.

Clara screamed and swatted at him. He tried not to let it distract him, just held her arm more tightly and secured the tourniquet with a knot.

His labor complete, he let himself fall onto his back, then winced at the impact.

"What now?" Sophia said.

Link groaned. He was not ready to start thinking again. He wanted to curl up and rest, and hide from the pain of his cuts.

"We can assume we've cleared out the Ganon Band from here," he said after a time.

"How can you know that?" Clara said. Her voice was ragged, and broke into a moan at the end of her question.

"Because if there are any left, not much we can do about it. So might as well assume they're gone."

There, he was thinking again. He had to keep it going while it lasted.

"We still haven't dealt with the powder source," he said. "We could leave, but it would be weeks before we could come back. More Moblins could come. Don't know what they'd do."

He pushed to his knees, took a breath, and stood up.

"I'm going on," he said. "You coming or staying?"

He heard a scramble of motion from Sophia, then a yelp as she toppled onto him. He cried out as he caught her, but remained upright.

"My leg," she said. "I can't-"

Link slid under her arm, sharing her weight. He just had to support her for a little while, he told himself. Then he could rest.

"Clara?"

"I can't see!"

"We're right here," Link said. "Come on, we haven't left."

He heard her standing up. "I can't see!" she repeated, louder this time. "I can't see, please don't leave me, please-"

Link reached out toward her. His hand brushed her back, and then grabbed her arm, the same one he had just bound.

"Let's go. Here take Sophia's free hand." He guided her around to his right side and let go when Sophia confirmed that she had her.

"We move slowly, together. If we lose contact, start making a ruckus until we're together again."

He made his way toward the doorway the Moblins had come through, for even amid the chaos he had kept his bearings. With each step, his foot tested the ground so he did not put his weight on Moblins remains or a spare weapon. When he could, he kicked such debris out the way, leaving a cleaner path for his sisters.

"I feel vulnerable, moving like this," Sophia said.

"Didn't you hear? We have conclusively proved that there can be  _no_  threat here. Because if there was-" Clara's voice cracked. She let out a shrill, quavering laugh. "Because that would be  _really bad."_

The peals of laughter continued, intermixed with sobs. Link ignored her. The sooner done, the sooner out. He led them down the temple's underground passageways, keeping his free hand pressed against the wall. When he came to an open room, he could not search with his eyes. So he would leave Sophia with Clara and traverse back and forth the entire area of the room, touching everything.

With every step, he added to his mental map of the place.

As they went deeper, the heat emanating from the shard about his neck increased, until he paused and yanked it from his tunic in frustration. It let out a soft glow, lighting the path about half a meter in front of them.

He waited for a reaction, but Clara was now little but a shell, and Sophia was Sophia.

"Aren't you going to ask me what this is?" he said. "Or why I didn't do this earlier?"

"What is that and why didn't you do it earlier?" Sophia said.

Link sighed. "Never mind. You'd think a disciple of Nayru could show a little curiosity," he grumbled. A few more steps, then he said "It's a Triforce shard. I think it's glowing because this temple is somehow connected. Maybe the Moblins used this as a cache to cover their search for it. Or maybe it's glowing because it's the seventh full moon and we're going parallel to a river, I don't bloody know. Why should I know anything about this Triforce stuff? I'm just some guy with a sword."

"Half moon, rather."

"I don't care!"

The next room contained the stockpile they sought. Barrels lined the walls, sitting atop small pools of powder. In the middle sat a table covered in bombs, most with the fuses removed. Mostly-eaten bits of meat littered the floor.

This was it. Just blow it up and go home. Or at least walk in a home-ward direction until they collapsed. Even so, the shard had grown in intensity with each step; following it to the end couldn't hurt.

"Can you pile all this stuff together?" Link asked Sophia. "Alone? In the dark?" He stopped his survey of the room to look closer at the wall. "Are those  _bite_  marks?"

"I can start, and I think so," Sophia said. She took his arm from her shoulder, hissed, and rebalanced. "You will follow the Triforce, then?"

"Hang on, you aren't at all concerned about the  _teeth-marks_  in the  _wall_?"

"The histories are full of stories of rock-eating creatures. It's not that unusual."

"Fine, pool all this together. When I get back, we'll figure out how to blow it up. From a greater distance this time."

He kept going, Triforce held high. His left hand held the wall for support, but he could quickly draw his sword if needed. He continued on for some time, always taking a left turn at a fork.

His trek ended when he came to a room with walls curving out in a wide circle. The Triforce shard shone brighter than it ever had now, throwing light all the way to the room's center. There he saw a large, scaly beast. Horns sprouted from its head and back, and its jaw could have snapped an oak tree. It lay on its side, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Link stood at the entrance, considering his options. "I'm not fighting that," he said aloud. If he was lucky, the thing would be a deep sleeper. If he was unlucky, it would be asleep atop the Triforce shard.

Beside the monster, Link saw a severed Moblin arm clutching a burnt-out torch. He slowly approached, thinking to get a better light source while deciding how to proceed. A closer glance at the arm told him it had been chewed off. Link grimaced as he pried the torch loose.

Link knelt and pulled out his flint. He soon had the torch re-lit.

The monster growled.

He stumbled back, refusing to let the torch fall this time. The monster snapped at him. Link danced backward, his cuts reopening and screaming at the sudden movement. A mouthful of daggers snapped shut in front of his face.

He led it backward and around, narrowly avoiding each bite until he confirmed his suspicion. On the ground where the monster had slept lay a Triforce shard, glowing like a star. He sprinted for it, just as the monster charged him. Link stumbled out of the way, turned into a roll, and landed on his knees, his hand atop the artifact.

Behind him, the monster smashed into the wall, and the entire cavern shuddered.

The monster wavered on its feet, staggering in place. Link couldn't count on it to last. His path to the door was clear; he snatched up the shard and sprinted away, ignoring the pain that threatened to topple him with each footfall.

He didn't stop until he had returned to where he had left Sophia. He was about to rest against the wall when she screamed at him.

"What are you doing? Get that out of here!"

Right. Fire and black powder mix poorly. He was tired and making dumb mistakes. He went back into the hallway.

"Are you done?" he said. "We shouldn't linger. I woke up a monster." He heard it roar in the distance. A slight tremor shook the wall.

"I'm done," she confirmed.

"Here, hold this torch, go with Clara a few hundred paces down that hall. I'll lay a trail of powder and join you. I don't think the monster is small enough to fit into the passage, but if it's a rock eater, who knows what it could do?"

"What kind of monster?" Sophia said, taking the torch.

"I don't know. Big. Scaly. Lizard thing with horns and a huge mouth."

"A Dodongo? And you lit a torch? Don't you know Dodongos dislike smoke?"

"Move now, talk later."

Sophia took Clara's arm and guided her back toward the entrance. Link took a barrel, cut a small hole in the lid, and walked backward after them, making sure the trail of powder was thick. The roar of the Dondongo grew louder, but Link forced himself not to rush the job If he couldn't do it right, then all was in vain.

It took far too long to rejoin Sophia and Clara. His back ached from the load, and his hands were coated with powder. The dondongo was sounding rabid, roaring and crashing its way higher and higher.

"I can carry you, but can Clara move fast?" Link said. She was kneeling, hands over her ears, muttering some unintelligible phrase, over and over.

"She's in shock."

"Well, unshock her!" Link growled, then tried to pull her up. She was completely limp in his grasp.

"Why now?" he muttered to himself. He took the torch back from Sophia and gave her a Triforce shard instead. "Use this for light. Go back toward the entrance, as fast as you can. I'll stay behind as long as it's safe, light the powder, and carry Clara out."

Without a word, she turned and hobbled out, leaning on the wall for support.

He took a moment to examine Clara's arm. It was turning dark from lack of blood. He doubted she would use it again. He released her arm, and it fell dead to her side.

 _No more tag-alongs_ , Link told himself. He had known from the start it was a foolish idea. He settled back and waited as long as possible. When the tremors were so fierce they threatened to shatter the roof, he dropped the torch on the trail of powder, threw Clara over his shoulders, and sprinted away, ignoring all the urgent messages from his body.

His remaining shard was dim now, barely giving enough light to navigate. He stuck near to the wall, sometimes having to skid to a halt to avoid colliding with the end of a corridor. Going in, he had always taken the left-hand branch. Now, he moved right at each fork.

He overtook Sophia at the steep ramp leading back to the temple entrance. He took her arm, and they stumbled up together. Behind them, they heard the explosion from the powder room, the rumbling of walls collapsing, and a pained roar from the Dodongo. Sophia began to slow, but Link pulled her along.

"Outside, outside," he shouted, panting.

At last, they emerged into daylight. Link collapsed onto the dry ground, not even caring that Clara landed on top of him. The girl rolled off and began to sob. Sophia lay down on his other side. What remained of her blue dress was stained red, and her face had turned a dangerous pale.

"Mission accomplished?" she asked.

Link nodded.

"Better to lie in the woods?" she asked. "More Moblins might come."

"That's nice," Link said, and fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The trek back to the abbey was a marathon of agony. Where at first they had strode with confidant vigor behind the Moblin’s trail, they now stumbled along, barely upright. They covered dozens of meters in the same time they had once crossed kilometers. 

They had made bandages from their clothing at the outset. Not proper medicine, but they served to provide constant pressure on the largest of their wounds. Sophia struggled forward with an arm each around Link and Clara, who had recovered at least enough to walk around and carry weight. But Din’s once-ostentatious disciple now spent the long days in silence, save for the sporadic grunt of pain.

At night, they sought what concealment the dying forest could provide. Clara and Sophia lay together, sometimes whispering, while Link settled in several paces away. They posted no guard, for they could mount no defense, and a quick slaughter while they slumbered would seem a mercy.

The whole time, they were thirsty. A sip or two every few hours would keep them alive enough to reach the abbey, or so Link hoped. Any more frequent than that and they would run out. They used the morning dew to supplement their supply, sucking on the dying grass in the mornings. As for food, Link well knew a traveler could last for days before the pangs of hunger became truly debilitating.

As their journey closed and they approached the abbey, Link was vaguely aware of the new fortifications – a trench of wooden spikes, the receding treeline – but his attentioned clung to sturdy gates and the safety within. A party rushed out to meet them as they drew near. A pair of sisters hurried Clara away, her arm a disgusting shade of black. Another pair began to help Sophia, but she held up a hand, and they paused.

Everyone watched her as she fought to balance on her good leg. She steadied herself and said “Link.”

He tilted his head in inquiry.

She threw her entire weight into a punch. It struck a cut on his chest, bursting open where it had scabbed over. He fell, and she collapsed atop him.

“What was that for?” he shouted, but it seemed Sophia had said her piece. She lay still, and the sisters collected them up and half-carried, half-dragged them to Sister Margeretta’s hospital.

 

* * *

 He lay on a simple bed, the sheets feeling almost too clean to bear his bleeding body. Distant screams punctuated his periods of lucidity. Calloused hands forced water and mushy food down his throat.

 After some time, Sister Margeretta appeared, shoving a strap of leather into his mouth. He moaned as she jostled him.

 "Stop whining. I haven’t started yet,” she muttered. “Now bite down hard. I’m too tired to be cleaning bits of tongue out of your mouth.”

 The pain did not last long. He remembered only fragments of the knife digging into the fresh wounds. Then he was propped up in the hospital bed, itching under the fresh bandages, trying to force down a slice of bread.

 He shared a wide chamber with Sophia, bordered on one side by a thick blue curtain and by Sister Margeretta’s office on the other. Sophia’s eyes were open, but her face was inscrutable as ever.

 “Why did you punch me?” Link asked.

 Sophia looked over at him, and then down. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, she said “That is a conversation for when we are healthy, I think.”

 “Words don’t require a lot of vitality, unless you plan to talk with your fists again,” Link said, and to this Sophia made no reply.

He tried again. After all, there was nothing else to do. “We at least need to figure out what was going on in that mine-temple thing.”

She held his gaze this time, then scooted back in her bed so she was sitting erect. “What is there to figure out?”

“It just seems a bit too nice, right?” Link said. Her injuries must have rattled her. He had thought her to be sharper than this. “That the Ganon Band’s powder cache, and a shard of the Triforce, and a giant Dodongo would all be in one place like that. Also, Moblins are dumb. Where did the powder come from? Because the Moblins sure aren’t organizing supply lines.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sophia said.

Link sighed. “If it was obvious, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Sophia bowed her head. “You’re right.” A pause. “That was a useless and low question.” A longer pause. Link tried not to let his frustration show. Was every conversation with her like trudging through mud?

“It is clear that Triforce shards attract beings of unusual power,” Sophia said. “Your experience with the dragon supports this, as does written lore. The dodongo probably burowed its way in as a baby when the shard was placed, grew too large to easily leave, and stayed around to guard the Triforce, eating the surrounding rock for sustenance.”

“And the Moblins?” Link asked.

“We have to assume they knew the shard was there. That would be great luck otherwise, and it is certainly not the guiding hand of the goddesses.”

“And if they’re already there trying to pry the Triforce from the Dodongo, that makes a convenient waystation for the powder,” Link finished.

And just like that, the conversation was over. Sophia’s eyes had lost focus, and Link could think of no more to say anyway.

* * *

 Link woke to tiny hands pawing at his chin.

“Boys really do grow face hair!” Collete said with a giggle.

He groaned and leaned back out of reach. Yet another addition to his misery. “How did you get in here? Go away.”

“I brought you a book,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken, “so you can practice reading and not be bored and stuff.”

Link made himself sit up. His healing wounds stretched under the bandages. It was not yet fully dawn, leaving the sickroom in shadow. “Kid, what makes you think I like you?” He tried to sound harsh, but exhausted as he was, his words held little force.

The girl stuck out her tongue. “Because you’re all rude! With people you don’t like, you have to be super polite and stuff so they don’t know. Like how you put up with Sister Aerial that one day. But then, like, you and Sister Margeretta are friends, so you get to grumble at each other, see?”

He lay back down and pulled his blanket over his head. “That’s lawyer talk. Go pester Fauchelevent.”

“Collette, what are you doing in here?” barked Sister Margeretta as she swept into the room. “This is a hospital, not a menagerie.”

“What’s a mena–?”

“Never mind that. The point is, I’ll not have you pestering my patients.”

“But I was just-”

“I’m not going to argue, Collette. If you believed this was acceptable behavior, you wouldn’t come sneaking in before breakfast. Now go tell Sister Carlotta what you did, so she can work in a lesson about boundaries today.”

“Yes, Sister Margeretta.”

Footsteps pattered away.

“She’s gone. You can stop hiding now,” Sister Margeretta said, and then she was upon him, prodding him with all manner of arcane devices and changing his bandages.

“I don’t know why you let her walk all over you like that,” she said as she worked.

“The girl is a _demon,”_ Link said. “’Let’ has – _ow!_ – nothing to do with it.”

“Please, you’re enough to throw a whirling dervish out of whirl. I think you can handle an eight-year-old child.” She began wrapping him back up. Her hands were cold and still damp, and retreated under her touch as much as the bed would allow.

“Would you stop squirming?” Sister Margeretta finished with the bandages, probably wrapping them tighter than she needed to, then bent to wash her hands in the basin. “Now the oracles will be down tonight to receive your report. Rest up, and I’ll think about letting you attend meals tomorrow. For now, someone will bring you breakfast in an hour or so.”

At least he had a book now. Link picked it up and tried to study it as Margeretta saw to Sophia. It was a silly children’s tale with vivid illustrations. He could mostly follow the text. It did not help that the author seemed to go out of the way to use absurd words. He would have preferred something practical like copies of reports from some general, but any practice was good, and there was little else to occupy his attention.

When he finally set the book aside, he noticed Sophia staring at him. He rolled his eyes.“What?” he demanded.

“You said you once read Lukahn. He is a dense writer. I don’t understand why those fables now give you trouble.”

“That was a long time ago,” Link said.

Sophia tilted her head. “Why should that–?”

“Look, obviously at one point I could read hard things. Then I forgot. Now I’m learning again because I need it. How many times are we going to have this conversation?”

“What?” Sister Margeretta said. She had just emerged from behind the curtain and was frozen mid-stride. “Don’t be silly, memory doesn’t work that way.”

“It does for me,” Link said. “I know what’s in my own head.”

She crossed the room and took Link’s head between her hands.

“Hey, what–“ Link cut off his protest when he met her intense gaze. 

Her brown eyes narrowed, unblinking, and the edge of her teeth worried at her lower lip. Link tried to relax and let her work, but her stare was so disconcerting it was a fight to stay still.

She finally let him go and stepped away, her fingertips massaging her brow.

“Well what was that about?” Link asked.

“Something is amiss. I will ask Nayru to look at you when she comes.”

The oracles came after dinner. “Let me see,” Nayru said as soon as she crossed the threshold. Link sat up, and she crouched before him, curlinga hand behind his neck. Where Margeretta had a focused stare, Nayru’s eyes flickered without pause.

“Oh,” she muttered. “I see.”

“Tell us what you see,” said Din, leaning against the door frame.

Nayru drew back. “There is a spell, as Sister Margeretta said. It has his essence about it.”

The three oracles turned to stare at Link. It was uncanny how they all seemed to move together, and their combined focus made him want to shrink away.

“Well, so what?” Link said. “If I did cast a spell on myself–which would be dumb, and also I don’t know any magic–then I’ve obviously forgotten that too.”

Nayru nodded. “We can deal with this after more contemplation. For now, we would know what transpired on your expedition.”

Sister Margeretta bustled to find a good arrangement for the five of them in the small room. She helped Link across the room to a chair next to Sophia’s bed. The three oracles sat facing them.

Link summarized the mission, stating what they found and the analysis he and Sophia had made of the situation. “This is the second shard of the Triforce I have acquired. You have the third,” he said in conclusion.

It was a guess, but a reasoned one. The shards seemed to have some attraction to religious sites, and the warmth from the shard he had felt standing outside the oracles’ chamber mirrored its reaction when he had approached the shard the Dodongo had guarded.

Din leaned forward. “If you mean to lay claim to our–“

Link snatched the pouch containing the shards from around his neck. “Take them, if you want. My fate holds no ties to that of Hyrule. Take them and let me walk free. Take them, if you have the strength to stand against the might of Death Mountain.”

The pouch dangled between them. Link met their eyes, one by one, and when it was clear they had no response, Link placed the pouch back around his neck.

“I cannot command your defense if you withhold strategic information like this,” he said. “If you can’t trust me with these secrets, how can you trust me with anything else?”

The oracles looked at each other, and it seemed an entire conversation passed between their eyes.

“Does that mean you are moving on?” said Farore.

“Did I say that? All I’m saying is you lot need to tell me the important bits. The more I know, the better decisions I can make. So, I’m asking you this one time. Besides your Triforce shard, do you have anything else to tell me?”

Farore bowed her head. “That’s our only secret.”

“Are you sure? Because if I turn around and find out you’ve got into some feud with a warlord, you’re on your own.”

“You know everything that we do, and a little more from what it sounds like,” Nayru assured him.

The rest of the conversation was mere detail work. They discussed Moblins movements in the area, progress on the fortifications, their stores of food, the armament of the sisters, and on and on. Link’s mind had reached its limit by the time they left. Sister Margeretta helped him back to his own bed, and he nearly collapsed into it.

“How fares Clara?” Sophia asked.

Sister Margeretta paused at the door. “She will live.” Her voice was thinner than normal, lacking her energetic bite. “I had to remove her arm, but the rest of her body will recover. Her spirit lies in the hands of the goddesses.”

Recovery came slowly. Sister Margeretta brought him reports on the defensive preparations. She would bring a new book from the small library from time to time, but she was too busy for much else. Some days Fauchelevent would visit, bringing with him a small game he had carved himself.

“Got nothing but time in this place,” Fauchelevent grunted when Link complimented the detailed figurines.

It was a dull game, but better than nothing, and he welcomed the companionship. Sophia took her turn as well, though she gave no sign whether she enjoyed it.

“Can teach you a thing about strategy, eh?” Fauchelevent said.

“Teach you to not commit to a battle so fairly matched,” Link said.

Eventually he grew well enough to take short walks. It was still painful, but preferable to the bed. On one outing, he came across a small group of sisters practicing with the sling. They stood some fifty paces before a bale of straw, taking turns to try to hit it.

Link watched a few moments before approaching. “Stop aiming,” he said.

The group’s reaction was predictably outraged.

“Get enough stones in the air, and the aiming takes care of itself. Here’s what I need you practice: ten stones every minute.”

Link didn’t bother to notice who it was who said “But isn’t that a bit fast?” He was already approaching to demonstrate. He took a sling from one of them, then knelt with a wince beside the pile of pebbles.

“Just get a steady pace,” he said, picking up a handful of stones. With a brief flick of his left hand, he sent a pebble flying across the courtyard. As soon as it released, his other hand slid down the length of the sling, loading it at the end. A breath later, the new pebble was already in flight. “See how I catch the sling? Right next to my hand so I can do it without looking. Always in the same place. It should never feel fast. Find a simple motion, and practice it well.

Every day he grew stronger, and soon he was out on his own for all but a few hours. Sophia too seemed to grow more colorful. Sister Margeretta would take her for small walks twice a day, helping her move around despite her injury.

One night, Sophia roused him while the abbey slept. For all Link’s questions, she said only “Come.” She leaned upon him as they walked into the halls, though she aided Link as much as he did her. She was a stolid guide in the dark corridors.

They entered a small chamber near the end of a hall. A full moon shone through window slits, illuminating the room. It contained but a mattress in a corner, and a small desk and chair. Something hung on the wall, framed, but Link could not make out the details.

“Sit,” Sophia said, pointing at the chair. Link supposed they were to talk about the reason she had punched him, but from her tone he could draw no clue.

He sat on the edge of the chair, not fully trusting it to bear his weight, while Sophia lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress, keeping a leg extended in front of her. She sat there, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“You misused us,” she said. 

Link had almost thought she was not going to speak. He opened his mouth to reply, but Sophia held out a hand. He waited. 

She continued to sit in silence for many breaths, as though she were waiting for a wind spirit to bring her the right words. “You think I am being weak. I was aware of the physical risk. I accept this.”

She fell silent for a time. “But…?” Link prompted.

“There are needs beyond the physical. You seem not to understand this.” She paused. “Your commitment to keeping us alive and together is laudable.”

Link waited.

“A good leader would not have left Clara to panic with not a thought to her state of mind.”

Link blinked. “I can’t control someone’s emotional state. What do you expect me to do?”

“There is much you could have done,” Sophia said. “Help me stand.”

Link did as she bade. Sophia reached into her dress and produced a crumpled parchment. She stood in the moonlight and read from it, while Link tried to follow the words as best he could.

“You might have taken measures to reassure Clara when it was clear she was over her head. You might have taken more care in selecting who you brought. You might have spent more time training us on the way there. You might have been less morbid in explaining your plans."

She finished. Link considered in silence. Sophia seemed content to wait, but her weight was growing heavy on his shoulder.

“That’s a lot to ask. I like to be direct about things.”

She gripped his arm, tight, in the greatest show of emotion since she had punched him. “I believe in you,” she said. “I’ve seen the strands of fate twist around you. But Hyrule needs more than a brute with a sword.”

“I am myself, and I don’t care what Hyrule needs,” Link said.

Sophia sighed and was silent for another long stretch. He was uncomfortable with how close she was, but he could not just step away and let her fall.

“This is an abbey full of religious seekers. You treat us like a garrison of soldiers. Can you understand the problem with this?”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Listen to me,” Sophia said. “Listen to Sister Margeretta.” She paused again. “If you can pretend to have a heart, then one might grow.”

First Margeretta, and now Sophia. So many complaints about the superficial. As though their warrior were not pretty enough for them. But if two were saying it, then more were thinking it. If the veneer of civility was what these sisters responded to, then he would polish his manner until it shone. At least until the threat had passed.

“I will try it. But only because I respect you, and it costs me nothing.”

“Thank you. Now let’s go back before we are missed. That everyone here is a dedicant does not mean that no one gossips.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As Link's recovery progressed, he began to do his part in the defense preparations. The slowest-moving project was the tree-clearing. The abbey had little metal to go around,so they could only procure a few axes for the labor. The sisters rotated through several rapid shifts, allowing them to keep up their assault with an unflagging ferocity. Their motivation, though inspiring, was no substitute for proper tools.

"Hold off a bit," Link told the working team. "I have an idea."

There were but two sisters with axes. The relief team gathered pebbles for the slings while they recovered. The working sisters stepped back, resting on their axes. Their heavy breathing was loud, even at five paces.

"Any idea's better than this slog!" one of them said, chuckling. She was one of the shorter sisters out this morning, but Link had noticed her wielding the ax with more than her share of ferocity.

Link drew his sword, and leveling it, released beam after beam of energy into the forest. Where they struck, bark burst from the trunks. The beams continued on, piercing through several trees before they petered out.

The working team turned their faces from the flying tree shards, but Link could only lower his head and hope none would strike his eyes. He maintained the barrage until his concentration broke, and he sat down on the grass with a sigh.

"That should soften them up for you," he said. Indeed, some of the smaller trees had already fallen, or were leaning precariously. More were charred and visibly weakened. There would be less to cut through, at least.

He spent most of his days there, alternating between attacking the vast forest and resting from his exertions. He tried to pass on his sword technique, but no one else seemed to have the knack for it, not even Sophia.

She was a quick study with his bow, however. They met outside the abbey following supper, where he taught her how to stand, how to draw with the strong muscles of her back, how the flow of her breath nudged her aim, how to achieve a clean release without nudging the weapon off target. Soon she required finer targets than the trees themselves. They moved on to hitting rocks, branches, specific knots in the wood from greater and greater distance.

She was almost overwhelming in her focus. No expression marred her face upon a miss. She recognized her errors – with prompting from Link at first, then more and more on her own – and simply corrected. She had found a stance that let a tree take some weight from her bad leg. From there she kept up a steady stream of volleys Link had not thought she had the muscle to support.

One night, Link and Sophia sat together in the woods as they rested from their practice. The sword beam technique strained Link's mind in a way he was not used to. It throbbed with a dull ache. He lay on the forest floor, an arm draped over his forehead, attempting to block any more thoughts from pounding around in his head.

"They'll never clear the forest in a reasonable time," Sophia said. Her voice was thinner than usual. She sat against a tree, hugging her knees to her chest.

Link sighed. "And if Moblins weren't so bloody stupid they can't use the simplest of tools without hurting themselves, that might be a problem." That was the problem with Sophia, he decided. She always had to be thinking about something, solving some problem — even if no problem existed.

"If all the sweating everyone's doing is in vain, you have some explaining to do," Sophia said.

Link rolled his eyes and forced himself to sit up. "Two reasons. First, if they're busy working, they're not getting themselves worked up about the complete not-a-threat that is the supposed pending Moblin horde. Second, this builds up their stamina so they don't wimp out in the first five minutes."

Her brows creased in disapproval. "Must you really lie to get your way?"

"Not a lie. Clearing the forest is a good idea. Useful if you ever have to fight something smart. It's just that if we don't get it right away, we're not going to all die. Not because of having too much forest, anyway."

When Sophia said nothing more, he flopped back down. The talking had only served to make his head hurt worse. He was on the verge of asking Sophia for a massage, but she would surely just get all uptight and weird about it, and discomfort was far easier to deal with than a stupid conversations he didn't want to have.

The exhaustion was so deep it hurt even to lay still. Too tired to even rest, he stood once more and let his legs carry him in aimless circles.

He paused. "I have an idea. Lie down."

Sophia looked up, skeptical. "What?"

"Just, you know..." he made a downward pressing motion with his hands. "Get down, take cover and all that. Trust me, this is really good."

She hesitated a moment. She glanced at the ground and back to him, then sighed and lay down.

Link thrust his foot behind him, sinking into a low stance. He held his sword straight out. His training paid off; his focus pierced the haze of exhaustion, and energy began to grow in the blade. He allowed it to build until his arm began to tingle. Then, he kicked off hard with his rear leg, turning into a barely-controlled spin. His sword wobbled up and down as it made the circle, release the charged beam all the while. It flew outward it a circle, slicing through trees as it expanded.

He staggered as he came out of the spin. His vision blurred, and he struggled to balance in his light-headedness.

"Link, watch out!"

"What?"

He noticed the trees beginning to topple over around the same time Sophia latched onto his arm and started pulling him away. Most of the trees caught on others on the way down, but branches jarred loose, and at least one large trunk crashed to the earth.

Link wanted to lie down again, but Sophia held tight to his arm. "We're going back," she told him. "You can rest in your bed. The next time you have an idea, consider telling someone about it first."

* * *

Shouting roused Link before dawn. Still murky from the previous day's exertions, he pulled on his tunic and hurried out. The sisters of the abbey were already amassing on the front wall. Link pushed past several on his way up to observe the situation.

A handful of Moblins gaggled at the forest's edge, shaking fists at the abbey and firing off an occasional arrow. He suppressed a sigh. Any threat was worth taking seriously, but if he was to be roused at such an early hour, it could at least be due to something more dire than this.

"You, you, and you, go stand watch on the other walls," he said, choosing sisters at random. He helped them move along with a rough pull on their upper arms. "I don't want any surprises while we're staring at this bunch."

He turned his attention to those remaining. Most were clumped together near the center of the wall, chattering amongst each other in a confusing din. Then, even though the Moblins were well out of range, someone let loose with a pebble, and even more followed after that.

"STOP!" Link bellowed.

They stopped. Most turned to look at him. Link made note of who kept their eyes towards the enemy where they belonged. Sophia, of course, the doughty ax-woman from the other day, a handful of others.

"Right now, those Moblins are something to keep an eye on. That's it. No battle's happening right now." He paused and pointed to a spot in the middle of the group. "Everyone on this side, go back to whatever it is you were doing. If we need you, you'll know. Until then, you're in the way."

There was some muttering, but not much. He waited for them to clear out, then continued. "The rest of you, spread out and get ready for a boring morning."

He tried not to shiver as he waited and watched. He could not stave off the cold entirely, but eventually the sun finished rising, and so long as he maintained a brisk walk across the wall he could stay reasonably warm.

The morning dragged on. Sisters brought up breakfast, still reasonably warm, for those standing watch. Link began to rotate out them out, as well as those manning the other sides. It wasn't so much that they could not handle more, as it was to give himself something to do.

Sometime after the third rotation, with the sun well past its zenith, the Moblins decided to make their move. They rushed forward, some pausing here and there to fire off arrows that fell well short of the abbey.

"Hold fast!" Link shouted when he noticed some of the guard reaching for their slings. "Await my command." Everyone on the wall fell still. The only sounds were the breeze and the distant trampling of the Moblins.

He itched to respond, but until they were in range he forced himself to remain still. He waited until their arrows fell against the base of the abbey wall, then gave the command to attack.

A barrage of pebbles flew towards the Moblins. One barrage was enough. Half the attackers fell. The rest fled.

Life at the abbey changed in the wake of the battle. An hours-long meeting between the oracles, Link, and a number of senior sisters produced a stricter set of guidelines for abbey life. None were able to leave the abbey gates alone. All were to keep their slings at hand. The walls were to maintain a watch of quarter strength at all hours.

For Link, life was still better than what he had been used to, but he noticed the effects it had on the sisters. He heard less spontaneous singing in the courtyard. Meals seemed more muted (though Cosette's chatter continued unabated, for good or ill).

Attacks continued intermittently. They were all much the same. By the third time the alarm went up, Link felt confident the sisters would beat back the attack well enough without him. Of course, the decision to stay in bed would doubtless draw all manner of ire from Sister Margeretta, so he continued his supervision of the battles.

One evening, the oracles summoned him to their tower. He had recovered enough to make the ascent unaided. This was not the same deliberate atmosphere like the first time they met. Nayru paced in the back, arms crossed and scowling. Farore occupied the center desk, her hands folded in front of her. Din alone seemed lighthearted. She gave Link an amused smile, then turned her attention to Farore.

"What do you know of prophecy?" Farore asked without preamble.

"Nothing," Link said. "I'm just some guy with a sword."

Farore and Nayru exchanged a glance.

"Perhaps that is for the better," Farore said.

"This is stupid," Nayru said. "I agree, but this… Are we really doing this?" She pointed at Link. "To  _him_?"

"Look, if you're not going to explain, I have some training I could be doing," Link cut in.

Din stood. "Link's right," she said. "I'll come to the point. We have consulted the prophecies, the legends, the goddesses, et cetera, and we, yes even Nayru, want you to take our shard of the Triforce of Wisdom."

Link blinked. "That's… okay. Sure. Thanks."

"I can't believe we're just  _doing_  this," Nayru said while Din crossed to him and handed him the shard. "Passing off a sacred relic really ought to have more gravitas."

Link placed the shard in the pouch with the others. Together, they emitted a glow so strong Link had to shield his eyes until he pulled the pouch closed again.

"The last of the Knights of Hyrule gave this shard into our care," Farore said. "We now pass it to you. May the goddesses grant you the power to defend it, the wisdom to use it well, and the courage to always take right action."

* * *

The next morning, Link was back on the wall for another stand-off.

"Why do they keep doing this?" Sophia muttered.

"If they were smart, I'd say they're trying to make us feel complacent," Link replied. "Of course, Moblins-"

"Moblins are dumb!" chorused a handful of the sisters around him.

"We get it," someone added.

Link scowled. "Right. So I wouldn't worry about it."

And then he saw a disturbance in the forest. Trees began to fall far in the distance, moving closer.

"This it is," Link said. "Get the rest of the sisters up here."

The alarm bell sounded, a brassy high-pitched ringing that filled the wall and the entire courtyard.

Link pulled two of the sisters from their posts. "Go back down. If you find anyone not moving, move them."

The disturbance, whatever it was, advanced slowly. The rest of the abbey arrived, the oracles included, and they were packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Even Collete and Fauchelevent helped, bringing up more pebbles to use in the slings, and keeping jugs of water full.

The sun peaked and began its descent. No one spoke; their eyes stayed glued to the advancing line of falling trees. It wasn't until evening that they finally broke through. A formation of Moblins armed with bows and boomerangs emerged from the forest. Unlike in previous attacks, these Moblins did not hesitate, but marched directly toward the abbey.

Link gave the command to fire, and most of the first few ranks of Moblins fell before they were close enough to attack. The height of the wall gave the sisters a range advantage, but they did not have the volume of fire to hold back the Moblins entirely. A volley of arrows arced over the walls.

"Stand fast!" Link shouted as the sisters retreated from the barrage. He stood unflinching at the front of the wall. Resting his sword upon the parapet, he shot off sword beams into the advancing enemy.

"Get back on that wall or I'll throw you over myself!" he screamed. Most of the sisters, to their credit, had already resumed their posts and were slinging stones again. They stood, though sisters beside them fell screaming, pierced by arrows.

At his words, those who were falling back returned to the battlements. They were hesitant and shaking, but they were  _there_ , and they were each another barrage of stones against the enemy. As soon as one person fled, the rest would. As soon as one person broke, they were all lost.

More sisters fell with each barrage. The air filled the familiar cacophony of screams of grief and screams of rage. In the fury of battle, the women beside him were more monsters than saints. To Link alone was denied the communion of battlelust. The commander bore the responsibility to see the battlefield as it was.

Link chose the two nearest sisters who seemed to do least well with the violence to carry the dead away, to keep them away from the defenders. The injured, if they could still fight, were bandaged up on the spot. The rest walked or were carried to Sister Margeretta's infirmary.

Though the sisters stood amidst their own dead, they spared no time for grief. The frenzy of the battle took them, and stone after stone found its mark. But just as he thought they were winning, out of the forest emerged a pair of cannons.

"Sophia, take out those-"

The roar of cannon fire cut off the rest of his sentence. The projectile glanced off a corner of the abbey, spraying hot fragments of sandstone over the defenders. When Link looked back up, Sophia was already shooting a stream of arrows at the Moblins operating it. The arrows fell well short of the mark.

Link gritted his teeth and aimed his sword. The target was distant, and fatigue had already seeped into his bones, but the stones and arrows of the sisters did not have the range to stop the cannons. Few of his beams hit. Those that did, did little good. It bought them only a little time until more Moblins came to start the cannons anew.

"Aim at-" Sophia's advice was cut off by another explosion. The cannonball smashed into the wall directly below him, and the concussion knocked him down.

"Aim at the ammunition," Sophia said.

It was a good idea. Link rose and steadied his sword atop the battlement again. He could barely see the stack of cannonballs sitting at the back of the formation. He tried to ignore the arrows shooting past his face and aim. Neither wind nor gravity seemed to interfere with his beams of light; he needed only to point his sword in the correct direction.

He fired. The stack of cannonballs exploded.

Cleanup work was all that remained. Most of the Moblins fled. Those few continuing their attack were soon deterred or slain.

There was no elation in victory. Most of the defenders stared blankly at the retreating foe. Some bent to weep over their fallen sisters. Others clasped hands for support.

"Come with me," Link told Sophia. "I need to see something."

They left the wall, unbarred the gates, and walked out to the destroyed cannons. Their shape was still recognizable, but the cracked casing would not contain another blast. The trees were charred all about. Large branches and Moblin remains littered the ground.

"Moblins cannot work like this." Link said. "Cannot coordinate like this. There must be..." he glanced about, "some greater power driving the Ganon Band."

"Mayhaps you underestimate Moblins," Sophia said, standing a couple paces back.

He stopped what he was doing to glare back at her. "If I was that wrong about things, they'd have killed me long ago." He looked down, stooped, and rummaged through the leaves before picking up an ornate blue rod, about the length of his forearm. The main body of it was of polished wood, and at its head sat a translucent orb.

"Why did you come, anyway?" Link said as he turned the item in his hands.

"You asked me-"

"No, before that," Link said, waving her answer off. "Why'd you volunteer in the first place? Back when this thing started."

"Perhaps I was looking to push myself."

Link scoffed. "If you don't want to answer, just say so." He would have expected some marking on the rod from the explosion, but it seemed to remain pristine. It was cold to the touch, and the crystal head captivated him.

"Why did you bring me here?" Sophia asked in turn.

Link sighed and shoved the rod through his belt. "Because you get it. You..." He gestured at the carnage around them, the violence they had done together. "I needed someone else to see."

He turned back to her, suddenly changing topic. "I've seen you pray, Sophia. Every day while we traveled, every day in the hospital. What do you talk about? How can you find so many words for the golden goddesses you serve?"

"For us, prayer is about a communion with the divine," Sophia said. "We use words when we must, but the important part is turning our minds to the Goddesses, and in so doing entering their presence. Have you ever known true peace, Link? Where the chatter of your mind stills, and all that remains is a pure emptiness?"

While she talked, Link found the source of the Moblin's organization, the driving intelligence behind the attack. High up in a tree, a large branch stuck through the chest of a hooded figure. Its head lolled to the side. The one protruding hand was tinted a grotesque shade of view, and its hood concealed all but a pair of eyes, shining even in death.

"I have known peace," Link muttered, staring up at the creature. "When I take up the sword, the world fades. My pain, my exhaustion splashes off a shell around me. It stops mattering that Ganon reigns in his dark tower and his Band ravages Hyrule. There is but the sword, and the stillness between strikes." He reached out a hand to the impaled foe. "Behold, my sacrament!"

As he reached out, the Triforce shards hanging around his neck began to warm, and shine even through his leather pouch. Link stepped closer. A pinprick of golden light shone from the back of the monster's hand. Somehow, this thing had embedded a shard of the Triforce inside itself.

He came closer, and the pull on the shards grew. The blue hand floated slightly toward him, and the outline of a triangle appeared on it. He hesitated, then loosed his pouch and drew forth his shards. The glow erupted into a blinding aura. Link closed his eyes against the brightness. He felt a burning, intense burning in his left hand. He clamped his teeth shut to bite back the scream as he staggered backward.

Link opened his eyes. On his hand blazed a golden triangle. The shards had merged and passed to him.

Sophia gasped. "They accept you," Sophia whispered. "The Triforce of Wisdom accepts you." She took a hesitant forward. "Are you aware of the significance?"

"It seems I have fallen into someone else's war against Ganon," Link said, not looking at Sophia. "I need to see where this being came from. There are probably more. I will take them out before they regroup. You have the command until I return."

"Link-" Sophia began. She took him by the arm and yanked him around to face her. "If you just walk off, they will think you abandoned them. They will think you've run. They will think you don't care that their sisters died."

He looked at her for a moment, then took her hand from his shoulder and let it drop. "Maybe I don't."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Finally attempting a novelization of the original LoZ. Apologies to anyone hoping for a strict translation. I don't know how to turn an 8-segment dungeon crawl into a story. I take some liberties, but I hope you will all find the classic game you're familiar with underneath. Constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> The original text of the poem opening the chapter:
> 
> 床前明月光  
> 疑是地上霜  
> 举头望明月  
> 低头思故乡


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